


A Song of Ice and Fire - Season 8

by TherealkingintheNorth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TherealkingintheNorth/pseuds/TherealkingintheNorth
Summary: Season 8 of Game of Thrones from a Jon/Dany perspective





	1. The Cave

**Author's Note:**

> This looks at Season 8 from the Jon/Dany perspective. First chapter is a prequel. Second is #epicboatsex.

**The Cave**

“Isn't their survival more important than your pride? Daenerys asked.

The truth of it caught Jon off guard. He simply stared at Daenerys. Captivated by her beautiful eyes. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and even more exquisite by fire.

Up close, Daenerys took the opportunity to regard him as well.

 _But he was handsome_ , Daenerys thought. Not the first time. And his eyes were soft. Brooding. Wounded. Deep. She might have let herself drown in those eyes, had she not been queen and he a rebel.

Finally, Jon spoke. His voice was as soft as his eyes.

“Is that what you think it is?” Jon asked. _“Pride?”_

“Isn't it?” Daenerys asked. Giving him a calculating look. “You don't wish to be ruled _by a woman.”_

Jon chuckled. A deep, sonourous sound that made Daenerys' blood rush.

“I'd prefer not to be ruled _at all_ , your grace,” Jon said. “But if I _were_ to be ruled by a woman, I would not object to one such as yourself.”

 His words may have been said in jest, but Daenerys found herself pleased at them nonetheless.

 “One such as _myself_?” Daenerys asked. Just a little playfully.

She saw the words at his lips. Saw him inhale deeply as he tried to swallow them. Fight himself and lose.

“ _Lovely,_ ” Jon said. Taking a step forward. He shook his head, as if to correct himself. “ _Beautiful,_ I meant to say.” 

Daenerys took a half-step backward on instinct, then decided to stand her ground. She would not be intimidated by him. He may be a king, but she was a queen. And a dragon.

“You think me beautiful?” Daenerys asked. Finding herself amused now.

Jon paused. Considering his folly.

“ _Aye,”_ he said. “And _kind._ And _sweet._ ”

Daenerys' amusement only grew.

“I didn't take you for a flatterer, _my lord_ ,” Daenerys said. 

“I _never_ flatter,” Jon said. “Or lie.”

“Isn't that's what flatterers and liars often say?” Daenerys asked. Smiling now. Jon smiled back at her in a way that warmed her chest.

“They say I have honest eyes,” Jon said.

“ _Do they_?” Daenerys said. Her voice was teasing now. “I can't quite tell.”

“Come closer then,” Jon suggested. His voice was gentle but dangerous.

Daenerys regarded him for a moment. Then she took his challenge, stepping even closer to him. Staring into his eyes. Finding them soft and soulful.

“Your eyes,” Daenerys said. Slowly. “They _are_ honest.”

The look in his eyes was longing. She saw him pull himself back with great effort and found herself disappointed.

“You say you're the queen of the seven kingdoms,” Jon ventured.

“I am,” Daenerys said. Firmly.

“All right,” Jon said. Surprising her. “Let's say, for the sake of argument, that I agree.”

Daenerys sensed a trap. But she nodded.

“Which means,” Jon said. “You're _my_ queen.”

Daenerys noted the emphasis on the word _my._ Tried to ignore the pleasure his words brought her.

“ _I am,_ ” she nodded.

“Which means,” Jon added. “My people. Are your people.”

 “They are,” Daenerys agreed.

“ _Your people_ chose me to lead them. _Chose me_ to protect them. Why do you think that is?” Jon asked.

At last, she understood his meaning.

“Because you fought for them,” Daenerys said. Quietly.

Jon let her consider it for a moment.

“Fight for them,” Jon urged her. “By my side. Show them who you are. And they will choose you.”

Daenerys felt something rise in her chest. Hope? Want? She wasn't sure. All she knew is that her breath was quickening and the space between them was shrinking.

Then she wondered if he was playing her for a fool. Thinking her a naive young girl whom he could sway with kind words and even kinder eyes. Even a hint of a possible betrayal from this handsome stranger cut her to the quick, and she could not countenance why.

“And if they do not?” Daenerys enquired. Shrewdly.

“Then they do not,” Jon replied. Plainly.

His brutal honesty took her aback. Staggered her. For once, Daenerys couldn't find the words. She was so used to treachery, lies and deceit, she didn't quite know what to do the words of an honest man. Then he spoke again.

“But isn't their survival more important than _your pride?_ ” Jon asked.

Daenerys couldn't help but grin. For once, Jon looked pleased with himself.

“They never told me you were _clever_ , my lord,” Daenerys said. Approvingly.

“I have my moments,” Jon said.

And that was all the praise he would allow himself, Daenerys saw.

“What did they tell you about me?” Jon asked, finding himself suddenly curious. “That I was some unwashed barbarian?”

Daenerys wondered how she should answer that. The truth, she decided.

“They told me you were _a king_ ,” Daenerys said.

Daenerys saw how her words pleased Jon. Although he tried not to show it. To feign disinterest in her opinion of him. He dropped his eyes from her. She found herself wanting to stare into those dark eyes again. It made her impetous and rash.

“And what did they tell you about me? That I was _beautiful?_ ” Daenerys asked. Finding that she was rather enjoying herself sparring with him. When Jon looked up at her, she found herself short of breath.

“ _You are_ ,” Jon said. Stepping forward again. Even closer.

Suddenly, Daenerys found herself with her back to the wall and regretting dismissing her guards. She didn't feel at all unsafe. Only an anticipation she had not felt in ages.

“We should be getting back,” Daenerys said. Trying not to flinch at how small her voice sounded. How weak. Jon stepped to one side of her, blocking her escape.

“ _You're beautiful_ , Daenerys,” Jon said.

Daenerys' cheeks turned the loveliest shade of red Jon had ever seen. She dropped her eyes from him. Jon waited for a chide that never came. For Daenerys to push him away. When she didn't, he spoke again.

“ _I want you_ ,” Jon whispered. It was a confession. A plea. A prayer.

Suddenly, Danaerys felt powerful. Confident. Utterly in command. She raised her chin. Haughtily. As only a queen would. Jon saw no surprise in those mesmerising eyes.

“ _All men want me_ ,” Daenerys declared. “Why should _a king_ be any different?”

Jon recognised the truth of her words. It was no idle boast. He knew his next words would seal his fate, and yet he couldn't help himself.

“ _I must_ have you,” Jon said. His voice was heavy now, with barely concealed want. His breathing turned harsh. His eyes grew demanding.

“ _Must you_?” Daenerys asked. She tried to keep her voice even, but failed. Jon nodded. Leaning in for a kiss. Slowly. His eyes growing ever darker.

And Daenerys _let him_. Parting her perfect lips to draw breath and give him a tantalising glimpse of her tongue. Only to turn her face from him at the last moment.

Jon remained undaunted. He was sure he'd his desire reflected back at him from her gleaming eyes. He moved to her ear.

“You're all I can think about,” Jon whispered.

“ _And?”_ Daenerys asked.

Affecting an icy exterior. Refusing to meet his eyes or even acknowledge his presence. Pretending his heated breath didn't send waves of pleasure to her core. That his soft lips tickling her ear didn't make her want to shiver and moan.

That she hadn't been thinking of him as well. All those cold, lonely nights she'd spent in her empty bed. Tossing and turning until she finally gave in and pleasured herself. His name spilling from her lips afterwards.

Jon sighed. Deeply.

“I'm losing my wits,” he added.

His voice was pleading now, Daenerys noted. With feminine satisfaction.

“ _I care not,_ ” Daenerys said. _Coldly._ _Cruelly._

But Daenerys couldn't hide the flush of her cheeks. Or the way his words made her tremble. Jon saw it. And smiled.

“ _Liar_ ,” Jon whispered in her ear. Then he surprised her again. By stepping forward and taking her into his arms. _Boldly_. Daenerys gasped. So loudly she was sure half of the seven kingdoms heard.

Daenerys' hands found Jon's chest. His grip was iron and his flesh was like steel under her fingers. She attempted to push him away, but found all strength fled her arms.

Jon found himself nearly singed by the heat from Daenerys. She felt as soft as silk. Jon wanted to wrap her around him. Melt into her. Sink into her.

He pulled her even closer, enjoyed the way she rubbed up against him as she attempted to slip away. The feebleness of her attempt to win freedom amused him.

When Jon chuckled, Daenerys' nose flared. She glared daggers at him. And did the only thing she could think of. Issued a royal decree.

“ _Unhand me_ ,” Daenerys commanded him. _Regally. “This instant_.”

Jon only smiled. In a manner which left Daenerys utterly flustered.

“ _No,_ ” he said.

Daenerys gasped again. At his defiance of her. At his utter disregard for her station as a queen. And just how much that inflamed her desire for him. When he sought out her lips again, she turned her face again. This time, Jon kissed her cheek. Chastely.

“ _Stop_ ,” Daeneys said. But her voice had lost all its conviction. And they both knew it.

“You don't mean that,” Jon whispered.

He cupped her chin with gentle fingers, turning her face towards him. He stared at her as he stroked her chin with exceedingly gentle fingers, then attempted another kiss. This time, Daenerys raised her face, letting him kiss her chin.

Soon, Jon was peppering her face with soft kisses. Her cheeks. Her chin. Her nose. Her temple. Everywhere except where he wanted to kiss her most.

Ignoring her feeble protestations, which quickly gave way to soft sighs. Her attempts at escape turned into clawing at his body, searching for bare skin to make contact.

When Daenerys threw her head back and exposed her soft throat, Jon knew it was a peace offering. He kissed the creamy skin and inhaled her sweet scent. 

“You'll hang for this,” Daenerys threatened. But now her voice was playful. And her hands were in his hair. Untying it, so she could admire the soft curls, run her fingers through it and play with it.

“ _Hang me_ ,” Jon mumbled. His lips trailled soft kisses across her neck. Drawing a moan from her lips. “ _Burn me. Behead me_. I shall go to my grave a _well-satisfied_ man.”

His words drew a smile from her.

“Typical,” Daenerys groused. “Men care only for their _own satisfaction_.”

Jon stood up. Looked into Daenerys' eyes and touched his thumb to her cheek.

“Allow me to visit your chambers tonight,” Jon said. “And I will not depart until you are _utterly sated._ This, I swear.”

Daenerys bit her lip as she regarded Jon. Considered his vow.

“ _No,_ ” Daenerys ruled. “You _may not_ visit my chambers tonight.”

“ _Or any other night_ ,” she added at the hopeful look on his face.

She saw him frown.

“ _Why_?” Jon asked.

“ _Because,_ ” Daenerys said.

Daenerys could have said a thousand things. Because it was a terrible idea. Because she was a queen and he a rebel. Because one day they might find themselves on either side of a battlefield. Each better than the last. Enough to fill a tome. And yet, she settled on one they both knew was untrue.

“Because I do not wish it,” Daenerys said. She contradicted herself by rubbing up against him. _Boldly._

“ _Liar,_ ” Jon said. His eyes turning just the slightest shade of sullen.

This time, he growled and nipped at her throat with his teeth, making her legs buckle. He caught her easily, holding her up with one arm.

She was such a tiny thing, Jon marvelled. Small, soft and warm. Utterly delicious.

“ _Daenerys,_ ” Jon said. Placing his forehead against hers. “ _Please_.”

“ _No,_ ” Daenerys said. Rubbing her face against his. Rubbing herself against him. Invitingly. Driving him further to despair.

“ _Say yes,_ ” Jon insisted.

“ _No.”_

“ _Please.”_

“ _No.”_

Jon could feel Daenerys' resistance fading. Could feel her slowly giving in to her desire. But suddenly, he found himself unable to wait another instant.

“Then I shall have you _right here_ ,” Jon declared. “ _Right now._ ”

His _eyes were black as night,_ Daenerys saw. _Almost mad with want._

“ _You shall not_ ,” Daenerys hissed. Her eyes were aflame. It halted him.

Jon looked as if he wanted to break something. Daenerys soothed him by placing a hand on his chest.

Daenerys knew she desired Jon as much as he wanted her. But she also knew it wouldn't do to let him know that. She was determined to have things between them on _her_ terms. So, she feigned indecision. Until she could take no more pretense.

“ _If_ I allow you to visit me,” Daenerys said. Jon's eyes lit up with hope. She quickly moved to dampen that fire. “You will tell no one. I will not have you _boasting_ of your conquest.”

Jon's eyes told her he'd never dream of doing such a thing. He nodded.

“ _Swear it_ ,” Daenerys demanded. Jon would have smiled at that, had he not been half-crazed with want.

“I _swear_ it,” Jon said. “By all the gods. Old and new. I will tell no one.”

Daenerys took a moment to enjoy the power she had over Jon. The look on his face as he waited for her demands. Knowing that he would accede to all of them to have her but once. That if she asked, he'd lay his crown at her feet this very moment.

“There is no one else?” Daenerys asked. Unsurely, for once.

Jon blinked. In confusion.

“Back home,” Daenerys added. “A wife? _A lover_?”

Much to her delight, Jon shook his head.

 _All men are liars,_ Daenerys reminded herself. _Even ones with honest eyes._

The thought of Jon lying to her hurt her chest.

“You wouldn't lie to me, would you?” Daenerys asked. Her pretty eyes narrowed with distrust.

“ _Never_ ,” Jon swore. Caressing her cheek with his palm now. She withheld a smile. Further considered her options. Made him wait a little longer. She could see him straining against himself.

“All right,” Daenerys said. _Finally._ “You _may_ visit my chambers tonight.”

When Jon smiled with relief, Daenerys felt her heart flutter. She felt the control slipping from between her nimble fingers and quickly moved to reclaim it.

“But you will not _have me,_ ” Daenerys declared. Her eyes leaving no doubt as to her meaning. Jon looked discouraged for a moment. Until she named her price. “Not until I'm _utterly sated._ ”

The smile returned to his face. He gave her a look that was so assured, Daenerys knew she would be well-satisfied. She found herself picturing it. Jon's mouth between her legs. Ignoring his pleasure entirely and tending to hers.

And then, of Jon _having_ her. Taking her. Slowly. Savouring it. Making it last. Daenerys found her thighs slick with wetness.

“And if you do not _please me,_ ” Daenerys warned him further. Her voice quivering just a little. “I will throw you onto the street. _Without_ your clothes.”

That made him smile. Which made her smile.

“Tonight?” Jon asked. Hopefully. She took one last moment to consider it.

“Tonight,” Daenerys agreed.

They rubbed noses together. Sighing.

“We should be getting back,” Daenerys said.

“Aye,” Jon nodded. Reluctantly.

His grip on Daenerys slackened. But then something seemed to occur to him.

“Swear it,” Jon said.

Daenerys cocked her head. Her eyes were questioning.

“That you will not turn me away tonight,” Jon said. He seemed embarassed to say the words, and yet somehow defiant. “That you will not leave me out in the cold.”

“I will do no such thing,” Daenerys said. Crossly.

“Why not?” Jon said. Sullenly. He was more confused than anything, she saw.

“ _Because_ ,” Daenerys said. Averting her eyes.

“Because you're a queen?” Jon asked.

 _Idiot,_ Daenerys thought.

“Because I'm _a woman,_ ” Daenerys said.

“So?” Jon asked. He was utterly lost.

“It's different for women,” Daenerys said. She felt silly now. “We have... _moods.”_

Jon didn't know what to say to that. His eyes fell to her lips. They looked soft. Inviting. Utterly _delicious_.

“A _kiss_ then,” Jon ventured.

Daenerys shook her head. Shyly. Bit that delicious looking lip with her teeth.

“ _One kiss_ ,” Jon said. “Is all I ask.”

“ _No_ ,” Daenerys said. “Now unhand me.”

Except it didn't sound much like 'no' to her ears. It sounded more like 'kiss me, idiot.'

“Not until I have my kiss,” Jon said. _Insistently._

“You _shall not_ have a kiss from me,” Daenerys said.

“I shall,” Jon swore.

Yet again, they found themselves at an impasse. And yet again, Daenerys found herself giving way.

“What if someone comes?” Daenerys asked. Her voice was soft. Shy.

“You are the queen,” Jon soothed. “And I am a king. No one would dare interrupt us.”

That seemed to mollify her. Only for a moment.

“But what if someone _sees_?” Daenerys asked.

She was still reluctant, Jon saw. Yet she couldn't hide the eagerness in her eyes either. She wanted the kiss as much as he did.

“I'll kill them,” Jon said. Shrugging.

 _Idiot_ , Daenerys thought again. She gave him a look.

“No one will come,” Jon promised her. “No one will see.”

“ _One_ kiss?” Daenerys asked. “That's all?”

Jon nodded. Daenerys responded by tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes giving him her assent. He leant in slowly, teasing her mouth with his own. His eyes were fixated on those lips.

Daenerys knew his intent. To prove she desired him as much as he desired her. To drive her mad with want. Until she was as frantic as he was. She would not give into him. Not here. And certainly not tonight. Not till he'd earned his keep.

Daenerys shut her eyes. And waited. And waited. When she opened her eyes, she found Jon vanished. She felt something tug on her dress. She looked down to see a wolfish grin on his face. His dark eyes were gleaming in triumph.

“Lift up your dress,” Jon said. 

Daenerys didn't understand.

“But...”

“Lift. Up. Your. Dress,” Jon commanded.

Only when Jon nuzzled her thighs and licked his lips, did she realise his intent. The vision she'd had earlier flashed before her eyes. Of Jon between her legs. Pleasing her with his mouth. Daenerys found herself overcome. Her knees trembled.

“ _Jon,_ ” she whispered. It was intended as a chide, but it was more of a plea.

“In Westeros, they call it _The Lord's Kiss_ ,” Jon said. He sounded delighted. “Did no one ever tell you that?”

Daenerys stared at him. Her jaw was agape.

“You tricked me!” Daenerys objected. Weakly.

“I did,” Jon agreed. He shrugged his shoulders. “Not proud of it.”

But Jon looked exceedingly proud of himself. And above all, he looked ravenous, Daenerys thought. Like a hungry wolf who'd devour her whole.

“ _Jon_ ,” she said. Yet again. Her voice was pleading now.

“You're the one who wanted me to _bend the knee_ ,” Jon said. Smiling broadly.“Here I am. As commanded.”

When he saw her resolve was less than iron, Jon pushed ahead.

“You promised me a kiss, Daenerys,” Jon cajoled. “A queen is only as good as her word, is she not?”

Daenerys knew she was trapped. Jon's eyes were unyielding. She looked around nervously. When the image of him pleasuing her struck Daenerys once again, she gave. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed the hem of her dress. Began lifting it up. Suddenly, she felt his fingers on hers. Stilling them. He brought her palm to his mouth, planting a chaste kiss on it.

Daenerys was confused. She wondered if she'd done something wrong. If he didn't want her anymore. Daenerys found herself blinking back tears. Jon saw it and stood. He looked bashful now. His eyes were apologetic.

“I was _only teasing,_ ” Jon said. Cupping her face.

Daenerys responded by punching him in the chest. Hard. Making him exhale. Glaring at him all the while. Still, she didn't protest when when he took her in his arms.

“Did you really think I would do that to you?” Jon asked. Softly. “Dishonour you that way?”

When he touched her face with the back of his palm, she nuzzled his hand. Still, her eyes remained cross. She didn't trust herself to speak. When she nodded, she saw him flinch. As if she'd struck him.

“I'd never hurt you,” Jon swore. “ _Never_.”

She regarded him for a moment. This handsome stranger who utterly befuddled her. Aggravated her. Made her want him more than she'd wanted anyone.

“Swear it,” Daenerys demanded. Again. Angrily, this time.

“I sw...” Jon began.

That was when Daenerys grabbed Jon and kissed him. Hungrily. With teeth and lips and tongue. As if she wanted to devour all of him.

Jon found himself staggered. Reeling. Only for a moment. And then he was kissing her back. Parting his lips and letting her eager, questing tongue find its way inside.

When their mouths finally parted, Daenerys found she'd practically climbed him. She found herself growing reckless. She stared down at him. And in that moment, she knew he was hers. Utterly hers. Forever.

When Daenerys pushed down on his shoulders, Jon resisted. She bestowed a soft kiss upon his lips, then swiped at him with her tongue to make him more pliable. It worked.

He let her push him down. Onto his knees. When their mouths separated Daenerys saw his eyes were questioning but filled with wonder. She regarded him for a few moments. And then she began to lift her dress. Slowly.

“ _Daenerys_ ,” Jon said. She saw him tremble and swallow hard. He was as eager as she was. And as afraid. It gave her courage. Made her feel powerful.

“You're right,” Daenerys said. “A queen is only as good as her word. _As is a king._ ”

“So if I do not leave this cave _utterly sated_ ,” Daenerys declared. Impishly. “ _You shall never have me_.”

Jon knew it was only a game. Her eyes told him as much. And yet, the very thought of it. Of her denying him. That he would leave this earth without _having her_ was enough to drive him mad. It gave him a sort of reckless courage he'd only ever felt in battle.

When Jon ripped off her undergarment, Daenerys gasped. When he latched onto her with his mouth, Daenerys moaned. She clutched at his soft hair. Her fingers as greedy as his questing tongue, which quickly slipped inside her.

Daenerys felt as if she were aflame. She looked down and found herself dizzy. Jon was frenzied in his attempts to please her. It was all too much. He ate her hungrily. Noisily. Guttural sounds emerging from the base of his throat to convey that this was as much his pleasure as hers. Daenerys felt it build inside of her. Quickly. She knew it was within reach. She heard words spill from her lips. Words she'd never said to any man.

_Yes. Please. Faster. Hurry. Please. Please. Please._

And then Daenerys' eyes opened. For a moment she was confused. She found herself lying on soft sheets. And then it struck her. The cave. Jon Snow. The conversation. _That was a month ago._

And the dream. It was the same dream she'd had since that meeting in the cave and after her return from battle. The same dream she'd had every single night since.Much to her shame and embarassment. And then things got even worse.

Daenerys found herself stranded at the edge of pleasure. Then, the wonderful sensations began to fade like the receding tide at the shore of Dragonstone.

The injustice of it all made her want to weep. She was queen of the seven kingdoms and yet she could not have what _she desired._ She could not allow herself to _have him._

She let out an extremely unladylike (and unqueenlylike groan). Her hand fumbled for the nearest pillow, grabbed it and stuffed it over her face. Muffling the howl lodged at the base of the throat. Which is when she heard a throat being cleared.

Daenerys shot up instantly. Her posture was perfect. Her face blank. Found Missandei watching her with a mixture of curiousity and amusement.

“Good morning, your grace,” Missandei said.

The slightest smile was playing upon her handmaid's face.

“Good morning,” Daenerys said. As evenly as she could.

“Sleep well?” Missandei asked. Handing her mistress a cup of water.

“Fine, thank you,” Daenerys replied. Blandly.

Daenerys forced herself to return the smile. So much so that she felt her cheeks hurt with the strain of it. She forced it all down. The anger. The dissatisfaction. The loneliness. Gods, she'd never felt lonelier. Into her stomach, which began to tie itself into knots. Missandei seemed to notice.

“Is everything all right your grace?” Missandei asked.

“Everything is fine,” Daenerys assured her.

Missandei nodded. Her queen tried to hide it, but she looked sad. Daenerys turned away from her companion, trying to take small sips of the water.

“Any interesting dreams, your grace?” Missandei asked. Innocently.

Daenerys froze. She could feel her heart in her ears. Pounding away.

“You were speaking in your sleep,” Missandei explained.

“Was I?” Daenerys asked. She turned her back on Missandei, hiding the panic stricken look on her face.

“What was I saying?” Daenerys asked. Conversationally.

Missandei furrowed her brows.

“I believe the word was _snow_ ,” Missandei said _._

“Oh yes,” Danaerys said. Thinking quickly. “I was dreaming of snow in King's Landing. It was beautiful.”

Daenerys winced. The words were hasty. Too hasty. She forced herself to slow down. Catch her breath. Take a sip of water. Pause, as if to remember straining for detail.

“I've never seen snow,” Daenerys added. “Did they have snow in Naath?”

“No, your grace,” Missandei said. Regarding her queen as if she were touched. “Naath is a _tropical climate_.”

“Of course,” Daenerys said. Feeling foolish now. Embarassed. The dream had left her wits addled. “Forgive me. I fear I am not myself this morning.”

Missandei gave her a kind nod. Daenerys waited a moment. When she sensed the danger had passed she let out a soft breath.

After a moment, Missandei spoke again.

“There was _one_ other word you were saying, your grace,” Missandei said.

 _Oh no,_ Daenerys thought. _No. No. No._

“And what word is that?” Daenerys asked. Carefully. She knew the answer. She didn't have to turn around to see the gleeful look on Missandei's face.

“ _Jon,_ ” Missandei said. Affecting a deep sigh in her voice.

“ _I was not_!” Daenerys said. Heatedly. Turning around to glare at her handmaid. Resisting the urge to fling the cup at her head.

“There's nothing to be ashamed of,” Missandei soothed. Stifling a laugh. “It's only natural. You're a young woman. And Lord Snow is rather... _fetching._ ”

“ _Is he_?” Daenerys asked. Dismissively. “Can't say I've noticed.”

“Half the Unsullied have noticed,” Missandei said, shooting her queen a skeptical look.

“And how would you know that?” Daenerys asked. Eager to get away from this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Men like to hear themselves talk,” Missandei said.

“ _Do they_?” Daenerys asked. Sensing an interesting story behind the words.

“Don't try to change the subject, your grace,” Missandei warned.

“You're being extremely impertinent this morning,” Daenerys said. Crossly.

Missandei threw up her hands in surrender. When Daenerys sat down in front of her mirror and began untying her long, silvery hair so that Missandei could brush it, her handmaid spoke again.

“You should summon _him_ this evening,” Missandei suggested. “For a _private audience_.”

“ _Missandei_!” Daenerys gasped. Scandalised at the sly smile on her friend's face. The implication of her words. “He's a _rebel_.”

“A _handsome_ rebel, your grace,” Missandei grinned. “That's half the fun.”

“I'm not here to have fun,” Daenerys reminded her. Sternly. Waving the brush at her as if it were a sword. “I'm here to win back my kingdom. And jumping into bed with Jon Snow wouldn't help matters.”

“It might, your grace,” Missandei said. Trying to hold back a laugh. “He seems extremely... _dutiful_.”

“ _Missandei_ ,” Daenerys chided. But now, she was plainly trying not to laugh as well.

“I'm sure he'd be more than happy to... _do his duty to the realm,_ ” Missandei added. Waggling her brows for good measure. This time, she was unable to contain a giggle.

Daenerys couldn't hold back her own giggle.

“He does seem extremely... _dutiful_ ,” Daenerys conceded.

Giving Missandei a knowing look.

When their eyes met, both women burst into peals of laughter.

“That's enough foolishness for today,” Daenerys said, after she'd caught her breath. “I have a kingdom to win.”

Missandei looked as if she were about to protest. But she seemed to think the better of it.

“Lord Varys had a message for you,” Missandei said instead.

“Hmmmm?” Daenerys asked. Her eyes were still a little glazed, Missandei noted. The look in her eyes was far away. Missandei could guess where her queen's thoughts lay. It made her smile.

“There's been a letter. _From Winterfell._ ”

 

 

 


	2. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #Epicboatsex. Nuff said.

**The truth**

They were standing at the prow, Tyrion saw. Side-by-side. Far too close for his liking. Talking about something or the other. Smiling far too much. Their eyes far too bright.

Even their postures mirrored each other. He was leaning forward and she back. Then she was leaning forward and he was on his heels.

Tyrion couldn't have missed the tension between them if he'd tried.

 _A blind maester would have noticed it_ , he thought. Churlishly.

 _The Dragon Queen and The King in the North,_ he thought. _Bloody idiots._

Tyrion was in his cups. He'd had a few too many glasses of wine. But not enough to be as foolish as to intrude upon them.

His head was filled with dark thoughts. Thoughts that should never have been. Would never be.

 _She should be thanking me,_ Tyrion thought angrily. _Instead of gazing like a lovelorn girl at a northern fool._

Tyrion didn't know why he was quite so angry. He blamed the wine. It was easier than facing the truth. That he was no longer needed or valued by the Dragon Queen. Another man had taken his place. A better man.

 _No,_ Tyrion thought spitefullly. _I am the better man. The wiser man. The smarter man._

Those thoughts only inflamed his anger.

The forbidden notion came to him unbidden: _She should be with me_.

It enraged him. Which only made him drink again.

 _Fool of a dwarf,_ he thought. Despairingly. _Don't you know that can never be? Dragons do not mate with demon monkeys._

Tyrion drank again. It had been only a few hours ago that Jon Snow had made his intentions clear in the Dragonpit.

All Cersei had demanded was that Jon Snow stay out of it. That the King in the North stay in the North.

He'd seen Daenerys' lovely eyes rest upon Jon. In them was only understanding. As if to say: _Do what you must. To protect your people. I understand._

But Tyrion knew better. One glance at the honourable northern fool was all it had taken. Tyrion knew what Jon was going to say before he said it.

 _Fucking idiot_ , he thought. _You fucking, fucking idiot_. _You'll be the death of us all._

Tyrion wanted to cry out. To tell him to stop. But it was not his place.

Afterwards, _he_ had been the one who had to sort out the mess the King in the North had created. By putting _his life_ on the line.

He'd returned only to find them hidden away in some dark corner. Standing far too close to each other. Whispering secrets. Sharing longing stares.

 _I saved you_ , he thought, looking at Daenerys. _I saved your kingdom._

His queen hadn't even thanked him. Instead, she'd walked off, the King in the North matching her step for step.

Back safely on Dragonstone, his military opinions had already been dismissed, courtesy of his repeated thrashings at his brother Jamie's hands.

Tyrion stood in the Map Room like a silent idiot. Holding his tongue. As the military men -- Jon and Jorah – made the plans. The queen for her part, looking on approvingly. _Especially_ at Jon.

Tyrion noted how her eyes lingered on him. Particularly when he wasn't looking at her. Only to quickly look away when he did.

Tyrion found himself feeling only disdain. For all of them. The feeling hadn't gone away since. He kept washing away the bitter taste with more and more wine.

The sun began to set. He saw his queen look into the distance. The King in the North stared at her. For far longer than was appropriate.

He saw her break away from him. _Finally._ The northener bowed his head a little as she bid him a fond evening.

Tyion hoped for a smile and a kind word from her, but Daenerys was lost in her thoughts. She gave him only a half nod.

Tyrion was gripped by despair. She didn't have to look back at Jon for Tyrion to know exactly where her thoughts lay.

 _I guess she doesn't need me anymore,_ Tyrion thought. _She has a new pet now._

As always, Cersei's words had cut deep. His sweet sister knew just where to slip in the knife. Between a man's ribs and into his beating heart. He rather admired her talent for it.

Still, Tyrion bowed his head as she passed by. Better to bow the head than lose it, a wise man had once said. He could never remember which wise man had said what. He blamed the wine.

When she slipped below deck, Tyrion finally looked up. Jon Snow was standing there. He didn't even look after the queen.

Tyrion wondered how long he'd wait. Tyrion decided he'd play a little game. For every half-hour that passed by, he'd empty an entire glass of wine.

Two sips later, darkness had covered them with a veil. And Jon Snow was still standing there.

 _Like the northern fool that he was,_ Tyrion thought. Mockingly. Bitterly. _A northern fucking fool._

He saw Snow stiffen his spine. Heard him take a deep breath. Tyrion knew the moment was at hand. He vowed not to look away.

Three short steps was all it took for the King in the North to pass him by. The nod he gave Tyrion was cursory. Formal. Clearly, his thoughts lay elsewhere as well.

Tyrion resisted the urge to follow Jon Snow. It was only after he'd emptied another glass of wine did he finally work up the courage.

 _I need to see it_ , Tyrion thought. Despairingly. _I have to know_.

He didn't know why he needed to see it. Why he needed to know. He just knew that he did. So Tyrion put down his glass of wine and began making his way to the belly of the ship. His steps were a lot steadier than he'd imagined. Perhaps the wine had far too much water after all, he thought. He blamed the wine.

Standing outside her chambers, Jon felt like an idiot. He knew what he wanted. He'd finally been able to admit it to himself. He wanted to be alone with her.

It wasn't why he'd suggested they sail together. His plan _did_ make sense. It did help convey that they were allies and not conquerer and conquered.

And yet Jon would be lying if he said that hadn't been at least part of his decision. That he hadn't thought about it endlessly since that moment in the Map Room.

“We sail together,” she'd declared. Staring at him. Boldly.

As if to say: _I know. I want you too._

Jon had felt hope flare in his chest. He lowered his eyes, hoping no one else would see. But they couldn't help but flicker to her again.

Jon saw it. The moment when realised _exactly_ what she'd said. How she'd said it. Worse, where she'd said it. _In front of everyone._

He saw her feel it. The eyes on her. All of them. Standing in judgement. He saw her overcome. By a hesitation. An awkwardness he could never have associated with her. She looked _embarrassed._

Jon felt terrible. He was the cause of her shame and he could do nothing for her. Say nothing. He quickly extricated himself from the situation, resisting the urge to talk to her or even look at her. He prayed that that would make things easier for her.

Afterwards, they'd boarded her vessel and pretended that it never happened. That nothing had changed between them. Everything had changed. They'd spoken of this and that. He'd spoken of the North. Of Winterfell. Of his people. His family. She listened. Then she'd spoken. Of her childhood. Her brother. Her journey. And he'd listened.

When she said goodnight, her greeting was less effusive than he'd hoped. Jon wondered if that was because she knew her people were watching. But there had been something in her eyes all evening. Something that had given him hope.

 _Hope,_ Jon thought. Shutting his eyes. _Fool. Just a northern fool after all._

Jon took a deep breath. He steadied himself, raised his hand. And then he knocked on the large ebony door thrice. As loudly as he could. The wait was short, but unbearable.

When the door opened, he saw surprise in Daenerys' beautiful eyes. It made him wonder if he'd erred in coming. Only a moment later, did he understand.

 _She wasn't sure I'd come,_ Jon thought. _She wasn't sure I wanted her._

Jon found himself staring at Daenerys. Boldly. Bolder than he'd ever dared look upon her. Bolder than any man had ever dared looked upon her. After all, she was a queen.

 _And until you pledge yourself to her before the northern lords, you are still a king_ , he reminded himself. _Just don't forget to breathe_.

 _I want you_ , Jon wanted to say.

He didn't have to say it. His eyes gave Daenerys the truth of it. He saw her expression shift. The surprise melted away and the regal mask fell into place.

Jon knew Daenerys was only protecting herself, but it still wounded him. He'd never hurt her. She had to know that. Jon didn't trust himself to speak. It was all he could do to keep breathing.

Earlier...

Daenerys wondered how long she'd been waiting. It had felt like forever since she'd Jon him goodnight. _Politely._ All the while her eyes had sung him a different song. Hoping he'd recognise the notes, commit them to heart and play them later.

She wondered if she should have been more forward. Said _something_. Done _something_. Anything to indicate her desire.

 _No_ , she thought. _That would have never done. Not with all the eyes on them. Not in front of everyone._

She was the Queen. She could never allow herself to be seen that way. Ever.

 _But I agreed to sail with him to Winterfell,_ she thought. _That shouldn't have been enough, shouldn't it?_

The truth of it was that even she didn't know. She'd attempted to read a book but that had proved impossible. She replayed their last conversation in her mind.

Then every conversation they'd ever had. Every look. Every touch. Every glance.

The Throne Room. Their private audience over looking the sea. The cave. After she'd returned from battle on Drogon. The Map Room. The beach. The look she'd given him when she'd come for him on her dragons. The connection they'd shared once he'd returned to her. The Dragon Pit. The Map Room again. The prow.

 _I was such an arrogant idiot_ , she thought. _Demanding that he kneel to me._

 _Fool,_ she named herself. _A southern fool._

At one point, Daenerys even considered sending for Jon. Only to quickly and irritably swat away that thought. She didn't want to insult him. Not after everything that had happened between them. Besides, it would be far too transparent.

Then she heard it. A loud knock. Then another. And a third. Her heart began to beat faster. Daenerys tried to convince herself it wasn't _him._

 _It was probably Missandei_ , Daenerys thought. _Or Tyrion._

Even to her mind, the explanations sounded feeble.

Daenerys got to her feet, only to find them unsteady.

 _It was the sea_ , she told herself. _Nothing more._

As Daenerys walked over, she couldn't help but glance at her reflection. She took a moment to stare at herself. She was as beautiful as she could make herself. As beautiful as she'd ever be.

She took a final moment. Just one. She knew she couldn't take too long. She didn't want him to leave.

 _You're a queen_ , she reminded herself. _The Mother of Dragons._ _Bride of Fire. Breaker of Chains. The Unburnt. The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. You are not a child. The Dragon is not afraid._

Daenerys was terrified. Despite the fact that she'd been waiting for him, when she opened the door to find him staring at her, her surprise was genuine.

 _Come in_ , she wanted to say.

But she couldn't. She was a queen. And queens did not offer themselves up like trinkets. Not even to kings. Neither of them could seem to find the words. They just stared at each other.

Daenerys decided to make it easier for Jon. For the both of them. But only a little. Daenerys gently nudged the door open with her hand, then dropped it to her side. It was the best she could do. Daenerys prayed Jon understood.

Jon surprised Daenerys by taking two steps into her quarters. He turned his back to her slightly, took a third step and spun around.

She turned to face him. Her expression changed too. Slowly, she felt her regal mask melt under his heated gaze. By the time he was pushing the door shut, she was staring at him as longingly as he was staring at her.

 _I want you,_ Jon's eyes told her. Growing ever bolder.

 _I know,_ Daenerys' eyes told him.

Jon couldn't move. Daenerys was so beautiful. All he wanted to do was look at her. And then he found himself wanting to do a lot more than just look at her. But at the moment, he could barely breathe. He hoped his legs didn't give out underneath him. It was all he could do to not fall to his knees in front of her.

 _She is a queen_ , Jon reminded himself. _Queens don't want for supplicants or servants. They desire kings. They need kings._

 _You are still a king,_ he told himself. _If you want to be with her, you must be a king._ The thought stiffened his resolve.

 _Jon's eyes were soft_ , Daenerys thought. _So soft_.

 _No,_ she thought, moments later. _They were hard and demanding._

 _Worshipful now,_ she thought idly. _Then wanton_ next.

Daenerys felt dizzy. Her chest hurt for lack of breath.

She wondered if he was waiting for her to turn him away. _Still._

She couldn't him away. Not after all they'd been through. Not after she'd seen with her own eyes. Not after she thought he was lost to her forever.

She remembered the last time they were here. In the aftermath of the mission. She'd watched as Ser Davos and the servants had laid him in her bed.

The joy she'd felt at his return had turned to dust when she'd seen his pallor. He looked so cold. So blue. He looked like death.

She'd wanted to avert her eyes when they'd stripped him of his clothes. Not that she was a maid. Far from it. She didn't want to intrude.

But when she'd noticed the deep scar running down his chest, she hadn't been able to tear her gaze away. Then her eyes had fallen to the other scar. Then another. And another. She felt stricken as Ser Davos' words came flooding back.

 _A knife to the heart for his people,_ the Onion Knight had said. _He gave his life..._

Those words had been running through her mind ever since. Over and over and over again. She hadn't been able to make sense of them. Not yet. And still she knew the truth of them. That he'd given his _life_ for his people.

 _I'll have the truth from him_ , she promised herself. _Later._

The door slammed shut. Loudly. This was the first time they'd been alone, they realised. There were no guards or advisers looking at them. No supplicants or enemies demanding their attention. Just them. They were alone. _At last_. And they just stared at each other.

Jon stepped forward first, as he knew he must. His eyes growing ever softer. Daenerys found her stomach fluttering. Her cheeks flushed. She clenched her fingers, fighting the urge to fiddle with them.

 _Dragons do not swoon,_ she reminded herself. _And neither do queens. And you are the Dragon Queen._

Daenerys took a half-step towards Jon. Feigning boldness, as best she could. That was all he needed. Jon reached for Daenerys, taking her by the arm. Daenerys let out a shaky, audible breath when she felt Jon's hands on her. His fingers were firm, but gentle.

 _It was death for any man to touch her_ , Daenerys thought, even as he pulled her close. _I am the Queen._

 _But Jon isn't just any man,_ Daenerys reminded herself. _He is a king._

Both his hands were on her waist now. His grip was firm. She looked up at him as he pulled her closer. Closer still. Wrapping his arms around her. When she was, finally, in his arms, they both exhaled.

 _You are the queen_ , Daenerys told herself. _You are the blood of the Dragon. The Dragon is not afraid_.

Daenerys was terrified. She found herself trembling. She placed quivering hands upon Jon's chest. Looked into his dark eyes. She knew they would be the end of her.

 _Be a queen,_ Daenerys told herself. _You are the queen._

 _Breathe,_ Jon reminded himself. _Just breathe._

Jon just kept staring at her. Eyes growing ever wide. Even now, all he wanted to do was look at her. For the rest of his days.

 _Gods, she was beautiful,_ Jon thought. She took his breath away. It wasn't the only reason he wanted her, but he couldn't, yet again, help but be struck by her.

Jon remembered the day they'd met. In the throne room. His eyes had grown to saucers as he'd first laid eyes upon her. She was a vision. She was ethereal. He'd never seen anything like her. Jon was entranced.

For a moment, Jon had forgotten everything. The mission. The Night King. He could barely remember his own name. But he knew he wouldn't forget her face. Not until the day he passed from this earth.

Jon raised his hand to Daenerys' cheek. Stroked it with his thumb. _Tenderly._ As he'd been wanting to since the moment he'd seen her.

Despite her best efforts, Daenerys found herself faltering. Her cheeks felt aflame. No one had ever looked at her like he had. She'd been dealing with looks all her life, of course. Every man who'd ever looked at her had wanted her. Her own brother wanted her. But this was different. Felt _different_.

Daenerys lowered her eyes. Only to find Jon's fingers beneath her chin. Strong fingers. Firm, yet gentle. Tipping her chin up. Until their eyes met again.

 _I want you,_ his eyes told her. Again.

 _I know,_ her eyes told him. Again.

 _And?_ Jon questioned. Silently.

Daenerys saw Jon steel himself. Even now, when she was in his arms, he would not let himself believe she could want _him._ She saw a lifetime of hurt and sorrow behind those soulful eyes. It made her heart ache for him.

A moment later, Daenerys' eyes told Jon what he should have known.

_I want you too._

They didn't have to say it, they realised. They didn't have to say anything. _They both knew._

When Jon leaned in, Daenerys drew in a shaky breath. Her eyes fell to his lips. Much to her chagrin, when their noses brushed, Jon stayed in place, teasing her mouth with his. Letting the anticipation build further.

Daenerys found herself growing impatient. She wet her lips to entice him, drawing his gaze to her mouth. Then she tilted her face upwards. Ever so slightly.

Jon knew Daenerys was granting him permission. He decided to make her wait. For just a moment longer. He was still a king, after all. Only when he saw impatience flicker in those exquisite eyes and her soft lips part, perhaps to issue a command, did Jon close the distance between them. Placing the gentlest of kisses on her mouth.

Daenerys sighed. _Deeply._ His lips were as petal soft as they looked. And worshipful. She sighed again when Jon deepened the kiss just a little, exerting the slightest of pressure against her mouth.

Daenerys had often wondered what it would be like to kiss Jon Snow. More often than she cared to admit, even to herself. Wondered if he'd kiss her as _hungrily_ as his eyes had been the day he first saw her. Staring at her as if he wanted to devour her whole.

As _defiantly_ as all the times he'd refused to bend the knee. Until he broke through her icy exterior, forcing her to give in to his embrace, quaking and shuddering in his arms.

Or as _admiring and soft_ as the day when he named her _his queen._ Eyes shining with something that terrified her beyond measure and had her fleeing for safety. Now, after months of wondering, Daenerys had her answer. _Finally._

Jon was gentle with her. Yet _firm._ Sure, but with the faintest trace of _hesitation_. He'd taken control, but he wasn't forcing his affections upon her. It was _sheer perfection_.

She felt his arms slip around her waist. _Slowly._ Gently pressing her to him. His lips, stayed ever-so-tender as they began exploring the contours of her mouth. Inviting her to kiss him back. Pleading with her to kiss him back. Only then did it occur to Daenerys.

 _She hadn't kissed him back_.

Daenerys had softened her lips. Even increased the pressure against his mouth ever so slightly. But she hadn't kissed _him_. Not the way she'd been wanting to. She remedied that by wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull him even closer, then began kissing him in earnest. Making him sigh against her mouth.

Jon cupped Daenerys' chin, holding her sweet lips to his. Drinking from her. _Deeply_. No wine had ever tasted so sweet. Nothing ever would, he knew. He never wanted to let her go. He wanted to just kiss her. _Forever._

The kiss was slow. Soft. Languid. Sensual. They fell into each other. Further and further and further. They fell forever.

When they finally broke apart for air, their faces remained joined. Their eyes locked as they shared a soft smile. The smile was theirs alone. Their secret.

Suddenly, the mood shifted. Their smiles faded. The look that passed between them was serious. Their breaths became ragged. There was unfinished business between them.

 _I want you,_ Jon's eyes told her.

 _I want you,_ her eyes told him.

And then their mouths were coming together again. _Passionately_. Their bodies rubbed up against each other. _Unabashedly._ It was a kiss meant for the end of the world.

Daenerys moaned against Jon's mouth. He was kissing her in all the ways she'd ever wanted to be kissed. Hard one moment. Then feather soft. Slowly. Frantically. Languidly. Hungrily.

 _He felt like steel under her fingers_ , Daenerys thought. _Hard. Unyielding. Cool._ She ran her hands all over him, her fingers delighting in the feel of the chiselled, muscled flesh under his many layers of clothes.

 _She felt like liquid flame in his arms_ , Jon thought. _She burned him everywhere he touched her. She was consuming him whole._ And yet, he couldn't stop touching her. He never wanted to stop.

Jon licked her luscious lips. Daenerys delighted him by parting her mouth, inviting him in. When his tongue moved to explore her mouth, she was waiting. She wrapped herself around him as he entered. Their tongues teased. Sparred. Teased again. Duelled. And teased again.

Suddenly, they found themselves drowning. Found their lungs screaming for air. Their lips broke apart, greedily gulping down air. When Daenerys raised her face to the heavens, Jon wasted no time, trailing kisses everywhere he could reach.

Jon kissed Daenerys' cheeks. Her chin. Her nose. Her forehead. He found himself wanting to kiss every inch of her. _Slowly._ He vowed that before this night ended, he would. And them, after Daenerys had taken a few deep breaths, Jon cupped her face, turned it towards him and swallowed her mouth in a fiery kiss.

When their mouths finally broke apart, they realised that they were dressed. _Still._ They both attempted to remedy this grievious error. _Together._ When they found their limbs entangled their eyes silently argued over who should undress whom first.

Daenerys wanted to see Jon. She'd seen him before, but that was different. She wanted to feast her eyes on what she _knew_ lay beneath his armour. Wanted to let herself delight in it as she took it off. Let her fingers, hands, lips and tongue run all over his muscles. _Slowly._

_You first, Daenerys' eyes said, but Jon shook his head. Firmly._

Jon wanted to see her. Stripped off her finery. Off her impressive clothes. Have her stand before him and see her as she really was. And what's more, he wanted to be the one to do it. And do it slowly.

 _I will have you in my arms, my queen,_ Jon's eyes vowed. _And you shall be as you were when you came into this world._

It was only a mere skirmish this time. Jon prevailed. Both because he was insistent on having his way and because Daenerys let him. Knowing his need was far greater than her own. Besides, his insistence only further added to her desire for him.

Jon reached behind Daenerys. And struggled with her dress. She rolled her eyes and attempted to swat away his hands, but he refused. Jon frowned when Daenerys attempted to push him away. He clung to her like a drowning man to driftwood. Unwilling to be parted from her for even an instant.

Daenerys smiled at his possessiveness, then quickly spun around in Jon's arms and raised her hair over her shoulders. Then, he understood. She was making it easy for him. It made him smile.

Jon kissed the nape of her neck, making Daenerys sigh, then kissed all the way to her ear and nibbled on it. His hands, which had been on her waist, glided upwards. _Slowly._ Giving her enough time to stop him. She didn't.

Jon filled his hands with Daenerys' breasts. Squeezed them. _Gently_. Making her gasp. He chuckled when he remembered his own words. _She has a good heart._ He squeezed her 'good heart' again. Tenderly. Which made her moan. He longed to hear her moan again. So he squeezed her breasts again. Which drew another heady moan from her.

Jon remembered how he found himself staring at Daenerys' 'good heart' more than once. And had to chide himself for it. Hoping all at once that she'd both notice and never catch on.

She was enough to drive a man out of his wits, he thought, as he rubbed his face into her neck. She was driving him out of his wits, he knew. Reason was fleeing him at this very moment.

Which is why Jon knew he would have to kill Ser Davos after this night had ended. After all, Davos had noticed Jon staring at Daenerys' 'good heart'. Which means Davos had noticed that she _had_ a good heart. And Jon couldn't allow that. As far as he was concerned, no one else was even allowed to look upon Daenerys without his leave. She was _his queen._

Daenerys gasped when she felt Jon's hardness nestled against her bottom. She gasped when she felt his firm hands on her breasts. Cupping them. She moaned when he kneaded them. _Boldly._

Jon's actions' emboldened Daenerys as well. First, to lean back, then rub herself against him. _Wantonly._ Turning her to look at him.

Their eyes met and held. Coming to terms on all that would pass between them this night.

 _Together_ , they both thought.

They sealed their pact with a frantic, open mouthed kiss as they rocked back and forth. Until they remembered that they were dressed. _Still._ Which led to Jon growling in frustration and Daenerys letting out an exasperated sigh.

Jon gave her breasts a final, possessive squeeze, then moved his hands to the back of her dress. This time, he found the buttons. And began undoing them. Jon cursed his clumsy fingers. He had to focus his breathing to steady himself. With every button that he undid, he saw more and more of her smooth, creamy skin being revealed to him. He kissed every inch he could.

Daenerys could feel his warm breath on her back. Felt his fingers gliding over her. Felt his lips touch her skin. Felt his tongue taste her flesh. And she trembled.

Jon kissed her shoulder blades first, then ran a trail of kisses down her spine. When the final button was undone, Jon pushed the dress off her shoulders. It fell to the ground. Leaving her bare before him. Jon ran his eyes down her back, letting them linger on her perfect bottom.

Daenerys waited. She could feel Jon's heated breath. Feel his eyes running over her. She waited. For his hands to grasp her hips and turn her around. But he didn't.

Instead, Daenerys felt Jon's lips on her shoulders. They were soft. Tender. Then he raised her hair and ran his mouth to the nape of her neck, trailling kisses all the way. Soft kisses. Warm kisses. Worshipful. He locked his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Leaned over to nuzzle her cheek.

 _He was asking her to turn around,_ Daenerys thought. _To look at him._

Daenerys shut her eyes, summoning all her courage.

 _You are the blood of the dragon,_ Daenerys told herself. _The Dragon is not afraid._ And then she began turning in Jon's arms. _Slowly_.

When Daenerys opened her eyes, she found Jon gazing at her. _Adoringly._ It made her smile. Which made him smile. Daenerys placed her forehead against Jon's. And gave him the slightest of nods. Blushing like a maid.

 _Look at me_ , her eyes told him.

 _Are you sure?_ his eyes asked.

She nodded again. _I want you to_.

Jon took a breath. Fortified himself. Then he lowered his eyes. And exhaled.

Daenerys couldn't explain why she'd grown bashful before their first kiss. She found herself entirely at a loss to explain why she grew ever bolder now, when Jon's eyes drank her in.

Daenerys _knew_ she was beautiful of course. Men had spent her lifetime telling her that. In every way and language she knew. And several that she didn't.

 _But no one has ever looked at me this way,_ she thought, even as he lifted his gaze to meet hers. Daenerys saw awe in Jon's eyes. He was looking at her as if she was a goddess. As if he wanted to worship her. As if she were a queen.

 _I am a queen,_ she thought, feverishly. _His queen._

When Jon moved to take her into his arms, Daenerys stopped him. Shaking her head. Daenerys smiled at the wounded look on Jon's face. His eyes asking her what he'd done wrong. Daenerys tugged at his clothes. Playfully.

 _No fair,_ Daenerys' eyes told Jon. _I want to see you too._

Jon could have laughed. Instead, he let himself smile and lifted his arms, allowing Daenerys to take off his shirt and undervest. He rather enjoyed the gleam in her eyes when she stared at his chest, enjoyed the sigh that escaped her lips even more.

Daenerys placed her hand on Jon's chest. Experimentally. Letting her fingers feel his bare flesh. Delighting in the way his breathing quickened. Daenerys ran her hand flit along his chest, sure to trace all his scars with her finger tips. Her touch was feather light.

She stroked his skin with the tip of her fingers. Let her palm glide over his muscles. Closely watching as they rippled like little waves beneath her touch. Daenerys moistened her lips. Suddenly, she was parched.

She sated herself by bowing her head. Letting her lips brush the scar on his heart. Smiling when he trembled. Daenerys lowered herself further, kissing the scar that ran across his belly. Tenderly. And then the one that ran down his side. And the one that was on his navel.

Daenaerys looked up at Jon and smiled. When her eyes fell to his breeches, Jon found himself impossibly hard. Daenerys lay her palm flat against his stomach. Stroking his flesh. This time, he gasped. Daenerys' eyes were innocent, but her smile turned wicked.

Daenerys hooked her fingers in his breeches. This time, Jon nodded. Daenerys steadied herself, reminding herself to breathe. Then she began unfastening him. Her fingers trembling just a little.

Neither of them spoke. They just watched her fingers struggle to undo the knots he'd so carefully fastened earlier that morning. When the stubborn knot refused to give Daenerys let out a little exasperated noise.

Jon clasped her fingers with his. Gently. Daenerys looked up at Jon. Her eyes chiding him. Her expression turned just the slightest bit cross.

 _No fair_ , Daenerys' eyes said. _You undressed me. Now, I want to undress you._

Jon took her hands, then raised it to his lips. Kissing her fingers. One by one. Gently. Staring into her eyes. Which only increased her desire for him. He cupped her chin, bringing her up to take another kiss from her.

Then he placed her fingers on his breeches again. But this time, he took her guided her fingers in such a way to allow her to more easily undo the knots he'd tied.

He was making it easier for her, Daenerys thought.

Daenerys smiled when the first damned knot finally gave way. Then the second. Leaving just one more to go. The wait was sheer torture. For the both of them. When the third knot gave way, Jon's breeches fell to the floor. Daenerys felt her cheeks colour as she stared at him.

 _Huh_ , Daenerys thought. _I guess he isn't too little for me after all._

The thought amused her a little and aroused her much more. Daenerys let herself have a sly smile. When she looked up at him, she found him staring at her.

Before she could move, Jon pulled her up and took her into his arms. Daenerys responded by slinging her arms around his neck. And then their mouths were joined again. _Together,_ they thought.

Daenerys sighed when Jon moved to her neck, laying a trail of warm kisses. She felt like she was in the flames again. His mouth and lips were setting her ablaze everywhere they touched. She longed for him to kiss her again. _Properly._ She tugged on his hair. Firmly.

Jon chuckled. He went lower, kissing the swell of a breast and teased a nipple with his tongue. He enjoyed her gasp when he took her into his mouth.

He longed to hear that sound again. So he did it again. This time with its twin. She rewarded him by gasping again, this time bucking against him. She tugged on his hair. Even harder. Throwing her head back this time.

Jon would have spent a lifetime between her breasts. Touching them. Kissing them. Worshipping them. He vowed to return soon, giving each breast a parting kiss.

Much to Daenerys' chagrin, Jon only moved _lower_. He kissed her flat, smooth stomach this time. Kissed it all over. Let his tongue explore the contours of her hips and her belly button. Daenerys stared down at him. She stroked his hair. She wanted him to return to her. _Now._

 _What are you doing?_ her eyes asked.

Jon only smiled at her. And waited.

It took a moment for her to understand. When she did, her legs nearly buckled.

_He'd bent the knee. But not in the way she'd been expecting._

Before she could say a word, Jon kissed both her thighs, then casually slung one of her beautiful legs over his shoulders. His breathing became ragged as he stared at her. The look on his face had her melting.

 _I want to worship you_ , his eyes told her. _Let me worship you. Please._

She saw him swallow. Heavily. Saw him lick his lips. Still, he waited. For her assent.

 _Worship me,_ she thought. _Love me._

Daenerys gave him the slightest of nods. And spread her legs for him. Jon grew even harder at the sight of her most intimate place.

He found himself wanting to kiss her flower. So he did. _Noisily_. Making her gasp and buckle against him. Jon tightened his grip on her and kissed her again. And again. And again. She gasped again. And again. And again.

Jon teased the soft, pink folds with his mouth. Finally, he could hold himself back no more. He swiped his tongue at her, making Daenerys throw her head back and cry out. Her eyes filled with water as he made love to her with his tongue. The feeling was wondrous.

Jon was lost at the first taste of her. He couldn't stop himself. Wild dragons couldn't have stopped him. He parted her with his hands and let his tongue have free reign. Taste her to his heart's content. When he finally slipped inside of her, he was rewarded with a flood of juices.

He felt her body quiver under his efforts. He knew she was getting close. He intensified his efforts. Making her whimper. His tongue went deep. Deeper. Deeper still. When he flicked against her nub, Daenerys felt her body coil tighter than it ever had. And uncoiled. With a heady moan.

Jon drank down every drop she offered. _Delighting_ in her. _Drowning_ in her.

He felt her legs tremble. He was loathe to abandon his delightful task, but he knew that she would give way in a matter of moments. And he needed to be there to catch her when she fell.

When Daenerys tumbled down she found him holding her up. Daenerys sighed, smiling languidly. She felt sated. _Almost._

Jon committed the way she looked to memory. She'd never looked more beautiful. _Gods_ , he thought. _I want her so much._

Her breathing, which had been unsteady, began returning to normal. Her cheeks were damp with sweat. Her face was flushed.

Daenerys ran her hands through his hair. Then kissed him. _Thoroughly._ Enjoying tasting herself on his lips and tongue. When she looked down between their bodies, her smile grew even wider. The proof of his want lay against her stomach. _Hard. Pulsing._

Daenerys looked at Jon. Questioningly. Asking if he wanted her to return the favour. Jon responded by lifting her her into his arms. Easily. Daenerys let him, granting him a smile. Jon paused at the foot of her bed, his eyes asking her if she was sure. Daenerys kissed him for it.

Daenerys _knew_ what would happen next. She'd had her turn. This was _his_. Within moments, he'd lay her down on the bed.

 _On her back._ He'd climb on top of her, spread her legs and take what he'd been wanting since the moment he laid eyes on her.

She'd seen it on the faces of every man she'd ever taken as a lover. And every man who she'd turned away. They all wanted the same thing. She was a queen after all. And a conquerer. And men loved nothing more than conquering a queen.

Something in Daenerys' eyes gave Jon pause.

 _What's wrong?_ his eyes asked.

 _Nothing,_ she reassured him, shaking her head. She touched his face, running her finger across his cheek. Giving him a small smile. _I want you._

Jon's eyes drifted to the bed. And then back to her. He nodded to himself, as if making a decision. And then he sat down on the bed, holding her up and scooted backwards. Until his back hit the headboard.

Daenerys found herself surprised by Jon again. A second later, she understood. He wasn't trying to conquer her. Take her. Posses her. Own her. All he wanted was to love her.Daenerys ran her hands across his muscled chest, urging him to lay back and spread himself. She smiled when he did as she bid.

Daenerys lay on top of Jon, placing herself between his legs. _Carefully_. Her eyes asking him to wait just a little longer. Promising herself to him. Smiling when he nodded.

Then she kissed him. Thoroughly. His lips. His face. His chest. She paid special attention to his scars, tracing those with her mouth and tongue. Making him gasp and shudder.

 _Later_ , she reminded herself.

Daenerys began rubbing herself against Jon. Wantonly. Jon joined her. Their bodies began mimicking the gentle, rocking motion of the boat on the waves. Causing delicious friction.

 _Soon_ , she promised him. Staring into his eyes. _Do you understand?_

When Jon nodded, Daenerys rewarded him with another kiss. Then she kissed him again. Once. Twice. A thousand times. Each kiss was a question. A test.

_Do you want me?_

_Would you kill for me?_

_Would you die for me?_

_Would you betray me?_

_Never leave me._

_Never betray me._

_Swear it._

Jon answered all her questions. With his mouth. His lips. His tongue. And most of all, with his eyes. Daenerys found herself marvelling at his eyes. Dark and grey and brooding. She found herself utterly lost in them.

 _He has the most honest eyes I've ever seen_ , she thought.

They just lay there. Rocking back and forth. Kissing. Softly. Slowly. Taking their time. Neither of them knew how long it had been since he'd knocked on her door. It felt as if ages had passed them by.

The moment arrived _far later_ than she expected. At the end of a series of long, soft, open-mouthed kisses that left them both trembling with desire. The moment Jon sat up and touched her face, Daenerys _knew_.

His breath, which was scorching, turned to dragonflame. His eyes, which had been soft, turned hard and demanding.

Daenerys breathed into him. Her fire. Her strength. Her power. Her desire. All she was. And Jon took all of it and made it his. It gave her pleasure she could never have imagined. When Jon turned Daenerys onto her back, still kissing her, she was more than ready for him.

Jon slid on top of her, delighted to find her sopping wet. Jon wanted to wait. To draw it out. But he couldn't. He wanted her far too much. Needed her far too much.

When Jon entered Daenerys in one smooth motion, she bucked under him, threw her head back and gasped her pleasure. Jon strained not to spill himself, like some green boy. The moment of their joining was exquisite.

 _Together,_ they thought.

When Jon thrust again, Daenerys rose up to meet him. Allowing him to slip ever deeper into her. They both gasped. If the first thrust was exquisite, the second was utterly divine.

 _Together,_ they thought _. Together._

The third thrust was _perfection itself,_ punctuated by an even more perfect open mouthed kiss that left Jon shaking and Daenerys' heart clench and her soul want to weep.

And then Jon did the last thing Daenerys expected. He _stopped_. And stared at her.

 _Daenerys_ , Jon thought. _It's you. All this time. It's always been you. You're the one I've been waiting for. My love. My queen._

Daenerys couldn't _fathom_ the way he was looking at her. As if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. As if he couldn't believe she was real.

The _soft_ way his thumb cupped her brow. The gentle way he touched her hair. It increased her desire for him ten-fold.

 _Jon,_ she thought. _It's you. All this time. It's always been you. You're the one I've been waiting for. My love._

Then she was struck by another thought: _My king._

Before that final thought could truly sink in, Jon was taking a deep breath and kissing Daenerys again.

This time, they both knew there was no stopping. No turning back from this. For the either of them. They were home. And they were never leaving.

 _Together,_ they thought. _Together._

 _Jon,_ Daenerys thought. Her thoughts were frantic now. She strained to reach up. To keep their lips joined. _Kiss me. Take me. Love me. Love me, love me, love me..._

When Tyrion stepped into his chambers, he saw a figure in the darkness. Awaiting him.

 _Father?_ Tyrion wanted to query. Tyrion knew it wasn't, of course. The wine was going to his head and making him foolish.

“My lord,” the figure said.

Varys' gentle voice gave him away. The eunuch was sitting at Tyrion's table, drinking from Tyrion's second favourite bottle of wine.

“So,” Varys said. “It has come to pass.”

“So it has,” Tyrion said.

He couldn't contain the anger and sorrow in his voice, much as he tried. Varys sighed deeply.

“Do not blame yourself,” Varys said. “There was nothing either of us could have done. It was, from the start, inevitable.”

“Was it?” Tyrion asked.

“Of course,” Varys said. “Daenerys is young and beautiful and unmarried. Jon Snow is young and handsome and unmarried. It was only a matter of time.”

Tyrion took a wine glass and pushed it across the table, his eyes ordering Varys to pour. The spider poured two glasses, one for each of them. Then they both drank. Varys only took a little sip, but Tyrion emptied his glass in one go.

“It does not worry you?” Tyrion ventured, noting the serene expression on Varys' face.

“ _Everything_ worries me,” Varys replied.

“Of course,” Varys added. “It helps that I've seen this all before.”

“Have you?” Tyrion asked. Idly. He was too busy focusing on the bottom of the wine glass.

“War has that effect on the young,” Varys said. “Passions run high. Children are born. Vows are sworn. Comfort is sought. Robert's Rebellion was no different.”

“You think this comfort?” Tyrion asked.

Varys noted the hopeful look in the dwarf's eye and shook his head.

“No,” Varys said. “I think it far worse.”

“ _Love,_ ” he added. Distastefully.

Tyrion looked as if he was going to drink himself to death.

“Put the thought out of your mind,” Varys suggested. Gently.

“What thought?” Tyrion asked. His eyes, for once, lowered.

“That she could ever be yours,” Varys said.

“My lord,” Tyrion said. Wincing.

“It is a sweet dream, of course,” Varys interrupted him. “And, who could fault you for it? You are only a man. But you know it can never be. Dragons to do not mate with sheep.”

Varys stood up and made to leave as Tyrion poured himself another glass.

“I am not a sheep,” Tyrion said. “I am a lion.”

“To a dragon,” Varys said. “There is no difference.”

And with those ominious words, Varys took his leave.

 

 


	3. Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post #Epicboatsex

 

Jon knew he wouldn't last long. Not as long as he'd liked. He wanted to draw it out. To take his time with Daenerys.  _Savour_  her.  _Worship_  her. But he wanted her far too much. Needed her far too much.

He strained every sinew in his body. Every muscle. Every ounce of energy. He kept his thrusts  _slow_.  _Deliberate_. It took everything he had to hold himself back. And hold himself back he did. Until Daenerys  _at last_ , had her pleasure of him.

Daenerys came with a strangled cry, bucking up under him and digging her nails into his shoulders. She gasped Jon's name and stared into those dark eyes, finding herself light-headed and her body pleasantly sore. In the end, it was his eyes that unmade her.

 _I could drown in his eyes,_ Daenerys thought.

Jon watched Daenerys. Watched her slowly ascend to the peak of her pleasure, then fall back to earth. When Daenerys had returned to him, Jon's eyes asked her a question. A question only a  _lover_  could ask. Waited for her anwer. An answer only a  _lover_  could give. The thought struck them both: They were  _lovers_ now.

  
Daenerys knew Jon had been  _waiting_ for her. Denying himself. That thought alone gave more satisfaction as any kiss or caress from any man she'd been with. She also _knew_  what Jon desired.

Daenerys didn't even have to consider it. She wanted it as much as he did. When she nodded, she saw his eyes grow wider. Disbelieving. Then, just to be sure, Daenerys hooked her legs around Jon's ankles, grabbed his face and pulled his mouth down on hers.

When Jon's breathing turned ragged and his pace quickened, Daenerys knew he was  _close_. His thrusts turned frantic. Then desperate.

Daenerys hung on to his shoulders. Caressed them. Enjoying the way his hard flesh felt under her fingers. Even as she urged him on with her eyes.

 _Take me. Take me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me,_ Daenerys thought.

 _I love you, Daenerys,_ Jon thought.  _I would die for you._

When Daenerys eyes told him  _exactly what_  she wanted of him and  _how much_  she wanted him, Jon was lost. He gave way and spilled himself inside of Daenerys. Gasping. Moaning. Straining for breath. Shuddering. Clinging to her.

Daenerys found Jon's pleasure spurring her onto her own. And then she was gasping, moaning and shuddering as well. And then it was neither his pleasure nor hers. It was  _their_  pleasure. Their still joined sweaty bodies quivering in the delicious aftermath of their lovemaking.

Jon slipped off Daenerys, unwilling to bury her under his weight. He shifted onto his side, sure to keep his arm around her and keep her pressed against him.

Jon stared at Daenerys. Her eyes were shut now. Cheeks were flushed. Breathing heavy. Her beautiful breasts rising and falling. She'd never looked more lovely. He'd never wanted her more. Jon caressed Daenerys' cheek with his thumb. And waited. He wanted to be there. To look into her eyes.

Daenerys found herself gripped by fear. She was afraid to look at Jon. To find someone else.  _Someone different_. Someone who didn't  _want_  her anymore.

Women had been warning her about men since she'd had her first flower. Of the way they were were. Of how they looked at you when they wanted you in their bed. And how they changed after they had you.

The feeling of his fingers on her cheek gave her courage. So did his firm arm around her waist. Keeping her close. His breath on her face was steady and only pleasantly warm.

 _You are the Blood of the Dragon_ , Daenerys reminded herself.  _The Dragon is not afraid._

When Daenerys finally opened her eyes, they were glassy. It took her a moment to focus them. What she saw made her smile. Jon was looking at her as he always had. Like she was  _his queen_. It made her feel giddy and more than a little foolish.

 _He loves me_ , Daenerys thought.  _I know it. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me._

 _I love you, Daenerys_  Jon wanted to say.  _I would do anything for you. I'd kill for you. Die for you._

But he didn't. Because he was afraid. Afraid that she'd turn away from his profession of love with a kind, knowing smile and even kinder eyes.

That would hurt him most of all, Jon knew. Even more than her rejection of his love. Her kindness. Daenerys may have taken him to bed, but Jon was far from certain she'd ever take him into her heart.

And with good reason. Because Jon remembered what he was. From as far as he could remember, he'd known what he was.  _A bastard_. He would always be a bastard. No matter his kingdom or title or his furs. And he remembered what she was. She was queen of the seven kingdoms. And destined for greatness.

 _No matter what I do, I will never be worthy of her,_  Jon thought.  _No matter how much I love her, it will never be enough._

It was a bitter truth and hard to swallow, but Jon was never one to shy away from the truth, no matter how much it pained him. That she could never be his. Not truly.

He forced himself to banish those dark thoughts. He would not let his weaknesses and doubts spoil this moment. At least, for this moment, she was his. It would be enough for the rest of his days.

 _I love you,_  Daenerys wanted to say. But she couldn't. She found herself afraid. Terrified, actually. Of what that meant. The words once said could never be unsaid. It would change everything. Even more than things had changed between them.

Daenerys dropped her eyes to his chest. The way he was looking at her was overwhelming. Frightening. Even more than frightening were her own feelings towards him. At the reckless things she'd do to keep him safe.

Then, Daenerys felt Jon's seed between her legs. Warm. Sticky. For a moment, she smiled. And then she found herself growing sad.

 _My womb will never quicken,_ Daenerys thought.  _I can bear him no children._

Then, she found herself despairing.

 _What man would spend his life with a woman that can give him no heirs?_ She wondered. _What happens when he tires of me? When my beauty fades, as beauty must? What will keep him by my side?_

Daenerys remembered sitting by Jon's bedside. For hours. Keeping watch. Praying he'd open his eyes, if only once. And then, when he'd pledged himself to her, she'd fled from his touch and his adoring eyes.

 _Gods, I'm such a coward,_ Daenerys thought.

She chased those dark thoughts away. Forced herself to focus on the present. Her eyes flickered over his scars. Noting all of them. Particularly the one over his heart.

 _Later,_  she told herself.

She distracted herself by admiring his pretty muscles. Reached out and touched them with delicate fingers. She was surprised to find a faint tingling return between her legs. She wanted him.  _Again. Already._

The look on Daenerys' face was one that pained Jon. For a moment she looked sad. Then, merely uncertain. Then, unsure of herself. He hated seeing her that way. He moved to soothe her. And said the first reassuring thing he could think of short.

“I've wanted you since the moment I saw you,” Jon confessed.

He saw a hint of a smile ghost Daenerys' lips. Saw the tension leave her shoulders. When she looked up at him, Jon saw her eyes were shining.

“ _I know,_ ” Daenerys said. _Regally._ Her tone was teasing. She ran a finger down his sweat soaked chest and onto his stomach. Her eyes followed its path.

“I thought I was being subtle,” Jon said. Sighing.

This time, she smiled.

“ _Very subtle,_ ” Daenerys said. Biting her lip as her finger ran across his belly. Threatening to go lower. “What will all the  _staring you were doing._ ”

The smile on her face took the sting from her words. Jon couldn't help but chuckle. He decided to tease her back.

“You did a fair bit of staring yourself,” Jon said. Cockily.

Jon saw it flash across her face. His words  _surprised_  her.  _Intrigued her. Aroused her._

Daenerys found she had nowhere to hide. She decided to seek refuge where she could. Ducked her face into his chest.

“ _Don't tease me,_ ” Daenerys said. Feigning an ill temper.

“You don't enjoy it?” Jon asked.  _Gently._

Daenerys shook her head.

“ _No_ ,” she said. Her voice was muffled.  _“I hate it.”_

Jon kissed her forehead. Gently.

“ _You're adorable_ ,” he said.

“Am I?” she asked. Hiding her smile by rubbing her face against his chest. Refusing to meet his eyes.

“ _Aye,_ ” Jon said.  _“You are.”_

Daenerys looked up at him. Her eyes were mischevious now.

“ _Adore me, do you_?” she teased.

“ _I do,_ ” Jon said, cupping her face. Tenderly.

“ _I adore you,_ ” Jon said.

Daenerys found herself utterly disarmed by his eyes. They left her in ruins, she thought. Her eyes softened, then clouded over with sadness.

“But you don't even  _know_  me,” Daenerys said. Her voice, which was tinged with grief, quivered. Just a little.

 _You don't know all the things I've done_ , Daenerys thought.  _Terrible things._

Jon was taken aback at the sorrow in her voice. He wanted nothing more than to draw it from her. Like a poison.

“ _I know you_ ,” Jon said. Firmly. “I know  _exactly_  who you are.”

“The Mad King's daughter?” Daenerys asked. Her smile wavered. Her eyes were watery. “The Mother of Dragons?”

Jon shook his head.

“ _You're my queen,_ ” he said.

Daenerys flushed. She dropped her face into his chest. Rubbing her cheek against him. She felt his soft lips brush her forehead again.

“You gonna be shy with me now?” Jon asked. His voice was even softer than his lips. And teasing. Ever so slightly. It made her melt.

“ _Maybe_ ,” Daenerys said. Enjoying the way he sighed when she pressed her soft lips to his chest and nuzzled him with her cheek. Suddenly, Daenerys felt Jon against her thigh. She looked up at him. Raising her brow.

_Again? So quickly?_

Jon's smile was sheepish.

“I want you,” Jon said. He looked only a little embarassed now. It made her want to giggle.

“ _I know,_ ” Daenerys said.  _Haughtily._

Which made him smile.

 _There she was,_  Jon thought. _His queen._

“Come here then,” Jon said. Making to kiss her. Daenerys halted him with a firm hand on his chest. She cocked her head. She eyed him warily. Took his measure.

“I'll have to think about that,” Daenerys said.

Delighting in the tortured look on Jon's face. When she touched his shoulders, she could feel the tension in them. She saw him straining against himself. Fight the urge to simply  _take_  her.

Daenerys drew it out even further. Pretended to consider it. Tapped her chin. Made him wait. As he had her, earlier. Ran her fingers across his chest. Looked at him this way and that. And all the while, Jon regarded her with soft eyes.

After what seemed like an interminably long time, she spoke.

“All right _,_ ” Daenerys said. “ _But only if I get to be on top this time. After all, I am the queen.”_

Daenerys was only half-joking. But Jon was deadly serious. He picked her up with ease and turned them around, positioning her against the headboard. Trapping her.

“You can be on top  _next time_ ,” Jon said. His voice was firm. Eyes were playful, but serious.

 _He never failed to surprise,_ Daenerys thought.

“Who said anything about a  _next time_?” Daenerys said. Playing coy.

“ _I did_ ,” Jon said. “ _After all, I am a king_.”

Jon's voice, which had been exceedlingly gentle turned just a little rough. It sent a delicious thrill through Daenerys. Jon saw it. And smiled.

Daenerys feigned resistance when Jon moved to cover her body with his. She fought nobly, but gave in quickly. Savouring the possessive look on his face and the insistence with which he took her into his arms.

Jon positioned himself against Daenerys' entrance, then rubbed himself against her.  _Languidly._  Until she could take no more of his sweet torture and her lovely eyes flashed.

“ _Don't tease me_ ,” Daenerys said. Digging her nails into his arms.

Jon didn't trust himself to speak. His eyes told her he wanted to take his time with her. Savour it. But Daenerys couldn't wait. She decided to sway him. The only way she knew how.

“ _Jon_ ,” Daenerys whispered. “ _I want you._ ”

She was surprised by how easily the admission came to her lips. Jon was even more surprised. Much to her chagrin, Jon only smiled.

“ _I know,_ ” he said.

They were both panting now. When he finally entered her, they both exulted. Jon was sure to keep his thrusts languid. Slow. Keep himself shallow. But by now, Daenerys was slick. She sucked him in, ever deeper.

Daenerys wound her legs around Jon's waist, pulling him closer. She grasped his hips, teaching him to move in ways that best pleased her. All the while, staring into his eyes. This time, Jon had his pleasure first. He cried out her name and shuddered as he gave all of himself to her.

When Jon's eyes opened, they were apologetic, but Daenerys only smiled. She took his fingers, licked them and showed him how to bring her pleasure. How to position them just so. Where to touch. Tease. Twist.

Daenerys found Jon an eager and attentive pupil. He learned quickly, finishing her off eagerly, making her cry out and cling to him. He kissed her thorougly. Hungrily. Languidly. Until they could taste only each other on their lips and tongues.

Then, he slid lower. First, he tended to her 'good heart'. Squeezed it. Kissed it. Licked it. Nipped at it. Gave his hands, lips and tongue free reign. As she ran his fingers through her hair and watched him from hooded eyes. The look on her face a mixture of amusement and ardour.

Then he moved lower, placed his mouth over her and drank from her deeply. Which made her moan and wrap her legs around his head. This time, it was Jon's turn to regard her with a mixture of amusement and ardour.

Only when she was ready for him again did he abandon his delightful task. This time, when Daenerys pushed him onto his back, Jon raised no objection. He watched as she climbed him, and paused. When she sank down on him they both cried out. Then she began riding him. Slowly. Languidly. Enjoying herself.

Jon was more than content to let her lead. His hands remained on her slender hips until she placed them onto her breasts.  _Boldly._  Finally, Jon sat up and kissed her. They stared into each other's eyes as they made love again.

 _Together,_  they thought.  _Together._

When they finally collapsed onto the bed, their eyes were heavy with sleep and their bodies needed rest. They knew they needed to have words. But it could wait. They wrapped themselves in each other.

“ _Jon_ ,” she said. Quietly.

“Hmmm?” he asked.

“ _What happens now_?” Daenerys asked.

Her voice was utterly innocent. He adored her for it.

“ _We sleep_ ,” Jon said. “Now, we sleep.”

Jon kissed her eyelids.

 _Sleep, my queen,_ he thought.

Daenerys smiled. Lazily. She found herself rubbing her face in his chest as he kissed her temple and held her in his strong arms. She found a sweet spot in the crook of his shoulder, then decided to make it her home. She found herself drifting off into slumber. She was tired. So tired. She found herself wanting to sleep forever. So she slept.

 _Daenerys_  awoke to find herself nestled against his shoulder. Her body aching ever so sweetly. She looked up and smiled at what she saw.

 _Jon looked peaceful when he slept_ , she thought.  _She'd seen all kinds of expressions on his face. But she'd never seen him at_ peace.

Before she knew it, she found herself making a study of Jon.

She was struck by how beautiful he was. It was an absurd thought, she knew. And yet...

 _He was beautiful,_  she realised.  _Especially when he smiled._

She vowed to see him smile more often. She looked down. Between their bodes. He was resting against her thigh. Hard. She mused awaking him by taking him into her mouth. She was tempted, but decided against it.

She didn't want to deny herself the look on his face when she did. The gleam in his eyes. She would have wagered the seven kingdoms that  _that_  would make him smile.

Daenerys found herself fighting sleep again.  _She was exhausted,_  she realised.  _He'd worn her out_. She smiled an impish smile and decided to give herself to sleep again.

When Jon awoke he found himself staring at her. In disbelief. Somehow, she looked even more beautiful asleep. Somehow. She was exquisite. Luminious. She took his breath away.

Jon was afraid to move. Afraid to do or say anything that would take her from her slumber. She looked at peace.  _Content_. So Jon just watched her sleep.

 _I won't let anyone hurt you Daenerys,_ he vowed.  _I'd give my life for you._

Then Jon found himself gripped by other thoughts. Unworthy thoughts. That she was  _his_. To have. To hold. To love. That no other man could have her. Jon knew those thoughts were unbecoming of him, but he could't help himself.

Just the thought of her with another man was enough to tighten his chest and make him angry. He tightened his grip on her, just a little.

 _You're mine Daenerys,_ he thought.  _And I'm yours._

Jon knew he'd already lost his heart to her. He found himself losing yet another battle. He was tired. So he slept.

Daenerys awoke to find herself in his lap. Jon was sitting upright against the bedpost. She'd climbed him in her sleep. Somehow. She looked up at him with a smile as sweet as honey. One he returned.

She sighed, resting her hands on his chest. Placing her chin on her hands. Their eyes met and held.

“ _Jon,_ ” Daenerys whispered.

Her voice was raspy from overuse of sweet nothings, sighs and screams of pleasure, she found. The delicious memories made her body hum.

“ _My queen,_ ” Jon said. Softly.

Daenerys smiled. Shyly. Dropping her eyes.

“You don't have to call me  _that_ ,” Daenerys said. Her voice was barely a whisper _._  “Not when we're alone.”

“You'd prefer _your grace_?” Jon asked. The corner of his mouth turned upwards.

 _He was teasing her,_  Daenerys realised. It made her feel like a  _girl._

“Call me  _Daenerys_ ,” she said, dropping her face into his chest. “It is my name after all.”

She didn't know why she was gripped by a sudden bout of bashfulness. She knew it was absurd.  _Especially_  after they'd made love. More than once. But she was.

“I know,” Jon said. “ _But you're my queen._ ”

His words made her want to swoon.

 _Stop it,_  she told herself.  _You're not a little girl. You're a queen. The Blood of the Dragon. The Dragon does not swoon._

She covered her tracks by rubbing her cheek against his chest. Only when she'd finally composed herself did she deign to look up at him.

“I didn't think you  _liked_  me,” she said. Her voice held the slightest hint of indignation. Her eyes turned the slightest bit sullen.

Daenerys caught herself at the last moment. I didn't think you  _loved_ me, is what she'd almost said. As if she were a lovelorn maid. She wondered what had become of her. What he'd done to her.

Daenerys was amused by the look on Jon's face. He looked like he'd lost his tongue.

“And what made you think that?” Jon asked. He sounded bewildered.

She attempted to shrug her shoulders. And failed. She didn't have the strength. She smiled as she remembered, yet again, why she was utterly spent.

“That day at the beach,” Daenerys said. “You remember what I said?”

 _Seven hells,_  Jon thought.  _They were having their first fight. Already_.

“You said,” he began.

Jon pretended as if he didn't remember. He frowned, as if trying to recall a long forgotten dream. When Daenerys' look began to turn cross, he chuckled. He kissed her lips. Gently. Soothingly.

“You said you'd grown  _used_  to me,” he said. His eyes promising that he remembered _everything._ Every word she'd spoken. Every look. Every glance.

“ _Fond_  of you,” Daenerys said.  _Pointedly._

Jon cocked his head. “That's not what you said.”

The reproach in his voice was as gentle as his caresses.

“That's what _I meant_ ,” Daenerys said. “You should have known.”

This time he sighed. Deeply.

Suddenly, he smiled.

“ _Fond_  of me, are you?” Jon asked.

Daenerys knew she was trapped. She decided to change the subject. By kissing him. Jon knew what she was doing. And yet he was content. He could have spent the rest of his days kisssing her. Suddenly, she put an end to it. Giving him a stern look.

“Do you remember what  _you_  said?” Daenerys asked.

Jon's shoulders deflated. He knew groaning or rolling his eyes would only lead to further trouble.

 _Gods, she was relentless_ , Jon thought. It only made him want her more.

Daenerys touched his chest. Traced it with her fingers. Particularly the scar around his heart. She wondered how deep that wound went.

 _A knife to the heart for his people,_  Daenerys remembered.

As if she could ever forget those words. Now that she was close, she couldn't believe the size of the scar. Especially when she remembered the small wound that had led to Drogo's demise.

 _Later,_  she told herself. _Not yet._

“You wished me all the best in the wars to come,” Daenerys said. Furrowing her brows. Wrinkling her tiny nose. “You called me  _your grace._ ”

Daenerys sounded sad now, Jon realised. He hated that he'd made her feel that way.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Jon said.

Daenerys looked up at him.

 _He was sorry,_  she knew.  _Sorry he'd hurt her. She knew that wasn't his intent._

 _She wasn't really angry,_ Jon realised.  _She was sad._

Only now did he realise how much those words had wounded her. He felt the need to explain himself.

“Do you know why I did it?” he asked.

She raised her head slightly, telling him to go on.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” he confessed. “And I couldn't bear it.”

She gave him a look. As if to say:  _I don't believe you._

“All I wanted was to take you in my arms,” he told her. His eyes, as ever, gave her the truth of it. “Just once.”

He breathed in deeply.

“But I couldn't. I knew if I did, I'd never leave that island. I'd be your prisoner.  _Willingly_.”

That thrilled Daenerys, he saw. Like any good general, Jon decided to press his advantage home.

“I'm sorry,” he said. He nuzzled her face. “I am.”

“I don't care,” she said.

She contradicted herself by rubbing her nose against his. By rubbing  _herself_  against him. Then she kissed him. A small, quick kiss. Enough to drive him crazy. To make him want her more. It worked.

“ _Forgive me_ ,” he said. His eyes begged her for another kiss.

Daenerys made up her mind. She would deny Jon. She would never kiss him again. No matter how much he begged or pleaded. No matter what he promised her. How soft his eyes were. How true.

“Never,” she said. Childishly. But she found herself planting another kiss on his lips. To placate him. Then another.

A moment later she added, “But you can  _try_  to make it up to me.”

“I will,” he said. “I swear it.”

And then he kissed her. Tenderly. Worshipfully. Hoping it would balm those wounds. When she broke the kiss again Jon feared he'd failed at soothing her. He was only half right.

“Why did we wait  _so long_?” she asked him. Touching his face now. She was sad again.

“Why did _you_  wait so long?” she asked suddenly. Playing at being angry with him. She emphasized her point by poking him in the ribs. Making him jump, just a little.

“And what would you have had me do?” Jon asked. “Walk into your throne room, slay your Dothraki guards and have my wicked way with you in front of Missandei, Tyrion and Ser Davos?”

 _I would have enjoyed that,_ Daenerys thought.

“Have your  _wicked way_ with me,” Daenerys teased. “Is that what they call it in the North?”

Daenerys was enjoying teasing him far more than she should have. More than she cared to admit. Jon, for his part, managed to blush.

“There are many names for it in the North,” Jon said.

“I look forward to hearing them,” Daenerys said. Fixing him with a stare.

 _I want you,_ her eyes told him.

“And I look forward to showing you,” Jon said. Suddenly his eyes were bold and his tone was cheeky.

 _I like this side of him even more_ , Daenerys decided.

Jon found himself staring at her again.

“What is it?” she asked.

“God knows I wanted to,” he said. “I was lost from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

She looked at him askance then.

“ _Liar,_ ” she said. Her mouth quirking upwards.

“I am not,” Jon said. Feigning indignation.

“I name you a liar,” she said. Smiling widely. “Jon Snow is a liar. So. There.”

“I. Am. Not,” he retorted. This time, he poked her in the ribs, making her squeal.

 _The Dragon was ticklish,_  he realised. With great amusement.

“Stop,” she said. Giggling now. He continued to tickle her. “Stop it.”

“ _Never,_ ” he said.

 _Using her own words to taunt her_ , she mused.  _I like that even more._

“I'll summon my Dothraki guards,” Daeneys threatened. She was laughing now.

“I'll slay them,” Jon vowed. “And have my  _wicked way_  with you.”

“Guards,” Daenerys called out.  _Softly._ She was gasping now. “ _Help_.”

Then they were both laughing. Wrestling. Playfully. Soon enough, the laughter faded. Their eyes turned serious again. And then they found themselves making love. 


	4. The Red Woman

"You  _lied_  to me," Daenerys said.

Jon's ears pricked up. Another fight?

But this time, her tone was different. There was no hurt in it. No accusation. Her words were soft. She even rubbed herself against him so that he would not mistake her intent.

"About what?" he asked. Quizzically. Softly.

She dropped her eyes to the scar on his heart. She underlined her point by tracing a soft finger over it. Then she kissed it.

"A knife through the heart for your people," Daenerys said. Resting her chin on his heart. Her voice was softer than the kiss. And far more intimate. "Isn't that what Ser Davos said?"

Jon sighed.

"I didn't lie," Jon said.

"You didn't tell me the truth," Daenerys insisted. "You've never done that with me before."

" _Dany_..." Jon began. Pleadingly.

"Back to Dany are we?" Daenerys said, raising a brow. " _I thought_  I was your queen."

Her tone was light. Teasing. Jon was grateful for it. He wanted to talk about something else. Anything else.

" _You are my queen,_ " he said. Simply.

"Am I?" Daenerys asked.

" _You know_ you are," Jon said. Caressing her shoulders with his thumbs.

"And what does that make you?" Daenerys asked. Touching a finger to her chin.

Jon knew she was toying with him. She was utterly gorgeous. Delicious.

"Your slave?" Jon suggested.

Daenerys made a sour face.

"Dragons take no slaves," she said.

"I see," he said. "Your prisoner then?"

Jon saw an intrigued look cross Daenerys's face. He saw her try to hide it. But he knew. He had something. He didn't know what. _Yet._

Daenerys formed her fingers into a knife and pressed it against Jon throat.

"You surrender?" Daenerys asked. Eyes gleaming.

Jon smiled.

" _Unconditionally_ ," he said. That pleased her, he noted.

"Will you  _bend the knee_?" she asked. Giving him a mock stern look.

"I will," Jon vowed. " _As often as you'd like._ "

She flushed. Nevertheless, she persisted.

"Will you be loyal?" she asked. " _Faithful_?"

The implication was unmissable. Even to a northern fool like him.

"I will," Jon vowed.

 _He has the most honest eyes I've ever seen_ , Daenerys thought yet again.

She smiled softly at that, then quickly returned to their little game.

"You'll have no other queen?" she asked.  _Jealously, now._

"Only you," he promised.

That made her want to smile. Like an idiot. She restrained herself.

"My every wish?"

"My command," he said.

"My every desire?"

"Will be fulfilled."

"Your life?"

"Yours."

Daenerys considered it.

"That sounds  _awfully boring_ ," Daenerys said. Resting her head against his chest.

Jon chuckled. Kissing her temple.

Suddenly, he was struck by an idea. A wicked idea.

"Perhaps  _you_  should be  _my prisoner,_ " Jon suggested. As innocently as he could manage.

Daenerys looked at him sharply.

"The Dragon  _is not_ a prisoner," she said.

Her eyes were  _heated_ , Jon noted. Far from angry.

He took her by the arm then.  _Firmly._ He was sure to keep his fingers gentle. He couldn't bear to leave a mark on her perfect skin.

" _Jon,_ " Daenery said. Her eyes warning him to proceed at the cost of his life. And yet, she couldn't help but remember.  _She'd dreamed of this._

 _She said my name_ , Jon thought.  _She didn't tell me to stop_.

" _Come here_ ," Jon said, pulling her against him.  _Roughly._

Not enough to hurt her, of course.  _But rough enough to thrill her._

Her breathing became heavier. She resisted him, but her efforts were feeble.  _Cursory_. They both knew it.

" _Stop,_ " she said. Attempting to push him away. Her arms were weak with desire. Her eyes grew ever more heated.

 _Don't stop,_  she meant. He knew. It made him smile.

"Is that a command from  _my queen_?" Jon asked.

Daenerys considered her next step. Carefully.  _What were the words she'd said in the dream?_

" _Yes_ ," she said. _Regally. Haughtily._ "I _command_  you to unhand me. At once."

All the while, her eyes told him otherwise. Daenerys' saw Jon's face fall. His grip on her slackened. Daenerys felt the frustration rise in her. She opened her mouth to tell him she was only playing the game, but he cut her off.

" _No,_ " he said.  _Firmly._

The wicked grin on his innocent face delighted her as much as the strength in his arms. His grip on her tightened again as he pinned her down, peppering her face with soft kisses, ignoring her half-hearted protestations and many threats of vengeance and bloodshed upon him.

When he attempted to join their lips, she turned her face away.

 _It was a only game,_ Jon reminded himself. But it still hurt. More than it should have.

 _Fool,_ he named himself.  _Northern fool._

Then he took a firm hold of her chin and turned her face to his. Jon stared at Daenerys. He found himself wanting to kiss her lips again.  _Properly._  He restrained himself. Reminding himself that this was for her pleasure as well as his.

"You're my  _prisoner_  now," Jon told her. "Do you understand?  _You're mine._ "

Jon couldn't help the possessiveness in his voice. She heard it. And her beautiful eyes flashed defiance.

"The Dragon is  _not_ a prisoner," Daenerys said. Her voice trembling with barely concealed desire. It only increased his ardour.

"Stop me then," Jon said. Smirking.

He surprised her by plucking her breast with a finger.  _Boldly_. Which made her gasp and shudder in his arms. Suddenly, she felt it. His finger.  _Inside_  of her. Teasing. Probing. Twisting. She cried out when he added another finger to the fold, then began sliding them in and out of her. _Luxuriously._

"You're mine, Daenerys," Jon whispered. " _Say it._ "

She refused. Glaring at him and biting her lip to keep from moaning his name. Breathing heavily. Her eyes wanton but defiant. Jon smiled, enjoying her resistance. It would make her surrender to him all the sweeter.

For a while, Jon was content merely to watch Daenerys suffer under his sweet torture. Watch the expression on her face change. Subtly. From outright defiance to a mixture of anger and arousal. And then, slowly, to blatant desire.

Daenerys spread her legs to better accommodate Jon. Then she began thrusting her hips back and forth in sync with his fingers. And yet, she held herself back. Refused to give into him entirely.

 _He would have to wring it from her,_  Jon knew.

Which is why Jon dropped down. Between her legs. The scent of her was enough to unleash the wolf in Jon. He gave his tongue free rein to lap at her folds. Hungrily. Their eyes met as he began eating her like a man starved, At last, drawing a heady moan from her lips. Jon knew her surrender was imminent.

Which is why he left here there. Quivering. And turned his attention elsewhere. To her breasts. Daenerys found herself in agony. She was close. So close. She could have wept then. Daenerys wanted Jon's mouth on her again. His tongue on her again. She wanted him inside her again.

" _If_  I surrender," Daenerys said. Forcing herself to say the words. To keep the game afoot. "Will you be kind to me? Treat me well?"

Jon sat up. He was eager to discuss terms. All he could think about was having her again.

"I would," Jon nodded. Solemnly. He moved in for a kiss, but she turned her cheek away.

"Swear it," she demanded. Forgetting herself for a moment. Forgetting their game.

"You're in no position to make demands," Jon reminded her. "But you have my word. I would treat you well. As I would  _a queen_."

This time, the look she gave him was pure innocence.

"And  _my virtue_?" Daenerys asked. "Would you keep me  _safe_?  _Many men_  wish to lay with me."

She enjoyed the way his body tensed up. With jealousy and anger. It made her blood run even hotter than it was.

"No one can have you," Jon vowed. " _Only me._ "

"I  _never said_  you could have me," Daenerys taunted him.

"You don't have to say it," Jon growled. "You're my prisoner. And I shall do with you as I please."

And then, Jon surprised Daenerys again. By placing a knee between her legs and forcing them open. _Roughly._  It made her gasp. And left her dripping wet.

Daenerys moaned when Jon positioned herself at her entrance. She shook her head, telling him she was unwilling for the game to end.

 _Not yet_ , her eyes said.  _Just a little longer. Please._

Jon shuddered. Daenerys was so slick. So warm. So inviting. All Jon wanted to do was slide home and never leave. It took all of his considerable restraint to hold himself back.

" _Yield_ ," Jon demanded.

The roughness in his voice, combined with the possessive look in his eyes had Daenerys at the ready. Jon saw her prepare herself. To submit to him. She rested her face against his. And nodded. Ever so slightly. Her eyes told him much the same. She was his. That made him smile. Greedily.

"Say it," Jon said. "Say the words. Say you're mine."

Daenerys' eyes flashed.

" _Never_ ," she vowed. And then she bit his lip. Not hard enough to hurt. But hard enough.

 _Take me,_  her eyes told him.  _Now._

Jon's lips turned hard against hers. Demanding. He bit her lips back, making her moan. Then he grabbed her chin and forced his tongue inside of her mouth. Daenerys licked his tongue with hers.

This time, their lovemaking was _frenzied._ After a few minutes, Jon pulled out of her. Daenerys was ready to drop to her knees and pleasure him with her mouth, but Jon had other ideas. He spun her around and took her from behind.

This time, their coupling was far from gentle. This time she screamed his name. Uncaring if the world heard her. When Jon finally spent himself inside of her, Daenerys wept her pleasure. Jon leaned over to drink the tears from her cheeks and lap up the wetness with his tongue.

When they collapsed to the bed. Jon held her close. Kissed her face. Whisped  _her name._   _Softly._ Told her she was  _beautiful_. That she was  _his queen_.

Which made her smile. He was utterly adorable. As if she needed proof of his devotion to kissed him for it, then sighed when he kissed his way down her body. She watched from hooded eyes as he worshipped her again. With his mouth first. And then his tongue. Languidly. Soothingly.

Only after she'd had her pleasure again  _and_  cried out his namesoftly did he kiss his way back up. Spending considerable time between her breasts. She welcomed him back with a kiss, enjoying tasting herself on his lips and tongue. Then she took him into her hands. Touched him. Stroked him. Played with him.

Suddenly, Daenerys found herself at the ready. Sooner than she'd thought was possible. She spread herself for him. Inviting him into her. They gazed into each other's eyes as he pushed himself inside her, joining their bodies again. This time, their lovemaking was slow. Sensual. They had all the time in the world.

Jon kept his thrusts shallow. Languid. Till Daenerys had pleasure again. After that, he followed her quickly. Spilling himself inside of her. Remaining that way long after.

Later, she broke the comfortable silence between them.

"When I was a little girl," Daenerys began.

Jon's ears perked up. She was sharing something with him. And that was a rare occurrence indeed. One worth waiting for.

"Viserys informed that we would be wed. That he would have my maidenhead," Daenerys said. " _After_ he won his crown, of course."

The look on her face discomfited him. He'd hoped to never see that look on her face again. Sad. Bitter. Angry. Jon grimaced. He wanted to comfort her, but didn't know what to say.

 _I never was good with words_ , he thought. Despairingly.  _Robb was good with words. He'd know exactly what to say._

"That night, I cried myself to sleep," Daenerys confessed. "And many other nights."

She sighed, then sighed again.

"Because I knew. I knew what type of man my brother was. Even then."

She chuckled, but there was no humour behind it. Only a sadness that made his heart ache for her.

"I would think of my brother Rhaegar. Wish he were alive to protect me. Then I thought of his children. And I wept."

"They were babes. And they butchered them," she said. "Do you know what they did to Rhaegar's children?" she asked. Her eyes were sad.

Jon nodded. Sombrely. He knew. Everyone knew the stories. All the stories. There were so many of them. He was just glad his father played no part in the role.

He knew his father was wroth at Robert for it. And at Tywin Lannister. He'd demanded Tywin's head, but his king had denied him. So Ned Stark turned his back on his friend. Only Lyanna's death had reconciled them.

 _Ned Stark was an honourable man_ , Jon thought.  _The most honourable man he knew._

As ever, Jon was proud to be his son. Even if he was a bastard.

"Rhaegar named his son Aegon," she said.

 _Her smile was sad,_  Jon noted.  _So sad_. And he could do nothing for her.

She rubbed her face against Jon's chest as he stroked her hair.

"I wished that he had secretly lived. I prayed for it. Dreamed about him. I found myself waiting for him. Staring at the sky. I'd pretend he'd arrive on a dragon and steal me away from Viserys.  _Save me_."

Jon held her close. He kissed her forehead.

"I wouldn't have to marry Viserys if Aegon had lived," she explained. She smiled then. An innocent smile from a childhood far away.

"I'd marry Aegon. He would be  _kind_. And  _gentle_. And  _sweet_. We would have a child. Name him after my brother Rhaegar."

Daenerys noted the discomfited look on Jon's face and offered him a kindly smile.

"Targaeryns wed brother to sister for generations," she reminded him. Gently. "In another age,  _I would have wed Rhaegar_. An aunt and a nephew would have hardly raised an eyebrow in my family."

 _Would have raised more than eyebrows in the North_ , Jon thought.  _Raise a few banners_ , more likely than not.  _Separate a few heads from their bodies._

"I wish I had been there," Jon said. He cupped her face. "To protect you from  _Viserys._ I'd have  _killed_  him. _"_

"I know," Daenerys said. Before she could stop herself. She blinked. She'd given voice to something she didn't even know she'd wanted.

"You would have hated him," Daenerys added. "And he would have hated you. You're everything he never was or would be."

 _A good man,_  Daenerys thought.  _A good king._

"Not exactly  _Aegon The Conquerer_ though," Jon said. Chuckling. "Am I?"

Daenerys loved his self-effacing humour. She'd never met a king who was so normal. So utterly bereft of any airs or pretensions. And utterly unthreatened by her. She'd never met a man like Jon Snow.

"And you're not a little girl," Jon added. "You're  _strong_. And  _brave_. And  _kind_. Not to mention,  _easy on the eyes._ "

That made her titter. They lapsed into an easy, comfortable silence.

" _Right then,_ " Jon said. He looked down at her, raising her chin. "I'm  _Aegon The Conquerer_. And I'm here to save you."

Daenerys paused. She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. And decided to play along.

"Are you?" she said. "But where are your dragons?"

She made a show of looking around.

"Around here somewhere," Jon said. "Doing what dragons do."

"And what do dragons do?" Daenerys asked. Skeptically. Putting her hands on her hips.

"This and that," Jon said. "That's highly unimportant. What's important is that I'm here. To whisk you away. Save you."

"Are you sure you're  _Aegon The Conquerer_?" Daenerys asked. "You have a  _rather common_  look about you. You don't look anything like the poets describe."

"The poets lie," Jon said, sighing. "They exaggerate. They're afraid of me. And my dragons. Which are very large by the way. And very fierce."

"I see," Daenerys said.

She sat up to examine his face, turning his cheek this way and that. She made a show of studying his chin.

"You do have a certain  _noble_  countenance," she admitted. Smiling to herself.

 _He liked that,_  she noted. She decided to knock him down, just a little.

 _Yes_ , she thought. Gleefully.  _It was too far delicious a dish not to taste._

"Although I'm not sure you're  _tall enough_  to be Aegon The Conquerer," Daenerys said.

She managed to hold herself for a moment, but the look on his face had her giggling.

He was offended, she knew. But it was all he could do to not burst out laughing himself. She saw him take a deep breath to control himself.

"I'm large enough where it counts," Jon said. Staring at her. Intently.

"Are you?" Daenerys asked. " _Truly?_ "

She looked down between them. And bit her lip. She raised a brow.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You claim you are Aegon the Conquerer."

"I am," he bristled.

"Then prove it," she challenged.

"How?" he asked. Cupping her chin.

 _He knew_. He still wanted her to say it.

" _Conquer_  me."

 _Love me,_  she meant. He knew.

Daenerys found herself lying on his chest. Taken by his eyes. They were so soft. So true and trusting. There was not a trace of scheming in them. Nor self-interest or boastfulness.

She kissed his lips then. Sweetly. Softly. Countless times. Jon was lost at the first taste of her. He was hers now. Forever. Suddenly, she was rubbing her nose against his.

"Swear you're mine," she demanded suddenly. "Swear it."

Her tone was utterly jealous. She was like a child demanding a sweet.

 _She was utterly adorable,_  he thought.

It was a side of her he never thought existed. A side he could never have imagined when he met first met her.

"I swear it," he said. "By all the gods. Old and new. I'm yours."

She kissed him again then.

"You wouldn't lie to me?" she asked. Her eyes narrowing, ever so slightly. "Would you?"

Her tone was playful. Jon searched for a similar response. And failed. He was never good at that.

 _Robb was good at that_ , he thought.  _My brother was meant to be king. Born to be king._

"Never," he said, running his thumb across her cheek.

He was looking like her like she were treasure. Like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It made Dany want to laugh. Shout. Weep. It was more than she could bear.

"Good," she said finally. "Because you're a  _terrible_ liar."

She kissed him again, then dropped her face to his chest and rubbed her cheeks against him. Gently kissing his scars on his heart and stomach.

"Jon," she said. Softly. She heard him stiffen and breathe him deeply. He knew what she was about to ask of him. He said nothing. When she looked up at him, she knew he didn't want to tell her. Could see him struggling with it. It haunted him.

" _Please_ ," she said.

Jon was awestruck. This was the first time she'd ever _asked_  anything of him, he realised. He knew he couldn't deny her. Not even this.

"I..." he began. The words caught in his chest. Dany placed her hand on his heart. Stroked it. Giving him courage. Telling him to take his time.

"I was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," he said. Gruffly. He shut his eyes. "Winter was almost upon us. And what it brought with it."

The army of the dead. Their bodies grew colder at that thought. They more than made up for it by holding each other close.

Jon paused. Daenerys knew he was gathering his strength. She waited. Patiently. She was prepared to wait as long as she had to.

"The wildlings... wanted to get south," Jon explained. "They wanted to live. And I let them through."

"My men declared me a traitor for it," Jon said. He was smiling now. But it was smile twisted by grief. And horror.

Daenerys didn't understand. She shook her head.

"They lured me from my quarters. They stabbed me for it. Again. And again. And again."

His eyes were haunted. The memory terrified him, she realised. Only a moment later, did she realise that her cheeks were wet.

Daenerys looked at him then. At his scars. All of them. There were so many. She didn't understand. She couldn't.

"I died," Jon said. Exhaling. Heavily. "I was dead. Gone. Finished."

Daenerys couldn't believe it. Even with all the things she'd seen. She knew he wasn't lying of course. He would never lie to begin with. And especially not to her. But that still made it difficult to believe.

Jon knew he needed to explain further.

"A  _red woman_  brought me back," he said. "A priestess of the fire god. She said some words. And... I was back.  _Here._ "

Daenerys blinked. She wondered if she ought to tell him. She had to, she knew. She wasn't going to lie to him. Especially after he'd just bared his heart to her.

"The day after I took Dragonstone," she began. Carefully. "A red woman came calling."

Daenerys felt Jon tense up. Even more.

"She spoke of you," Daenerys said. "She told me to summon you. To have you tell me the things you'd seen with your own eyes."

They both paused a beat.

"Melisandre?" Jon asked. Unsurely.

Daenerys nodded.

Jon took a deep breath. He attempted a smile and failed.

"I'm glad she did," he said. He chuckled weakly.

"I guess I owe her a lot more than my life."

 _He looked so sad,_  Daenerys thought. She knew she was the cause of it. And vowed to make it up to him.

" _Your life_ ," Daenerys said. " _Is mine_."

 _Mine to protect,_  she thought.  _You're mine, aren't you Jon?_

He read it in her eyes. And nodded.

"I'm sorry," Daenerys said instead.  _She was sorry_. She wished she'd never asked. She wished she could take it back. She cupped his face. "I'm so sorry Jon."

She kissed him again. And he kissed her back.

Later, it was she that broke the comfortable silence between them. Yet again.

"I'm glad I didn't feed you to my dragons," Dany said, idly.

Jon looked down at her. She was resting against his chest. Again. Running her hand over his scars. She had a childlike fascination with them.

Jon frowned. "I didn't know that was an option."

"It's always an option," Daenerys said.  _Darkly._

Jon wasn't sure if she was joking or not. He decided to believe that she was.

"Why didn't you?" he asked. "Feed me to the dragons."

Dany looked up at him. She appraised him carefully.

"I thought you were too pretty to be dragon food," she said.

Jon chuckled. And then Daenerys found herself grinning.

Daenerys saw his smile fade and the weight of the world on his shoulders once again. She knew that look. The look was hers. Daenerys touched his face.

"What was her name?" Daenerys asked. Softly.

Jon looked into her eyes. She knew.

" _Ygritte_ ," he said. Just saying her name made his chest hurt.

Daenerys flinched. His voice was soft. And tinged with grief. His smile was so sad. Daenerys knew Ygritte was dead, of course. Otherwise, Jon would have never come to her bed. Even if he'd wanted to. Even if she'd commanded it. Even if the fate of the world depended on it.

" _Ygritte,_ " Daenerys said. Softly. She found herself liking the way it rolled off her tongue.

"Tell me about her," Daenerys said.

"Please," she added. Softly.

The word came easier to her this time, she found.

Jon steeled himself. Took a deep breath.

"She was..."

He wasn't sure how to describe her. Where to begin.

"Beautiful," Daenerys finished. _Obviously._

" _Aye_ ," Jon smiled. "She was."

Dany felt just a twinge of jealousy, and had to chide herself for it.

"And?" Dany asked.

Jon was lost now. In another world.

"She was kissed by fire," he said. His eyes were glassy. "She was fierce. And loyal. And strong. A free woman."

Jon inhaled. Heavily. Gods, it still hurt.

"I would have liked to meet her," Daenerys said.

Jon smiled.

"Not sure she'd have liked to meet you," Jon said.

Daenerys pulled back at that, giving him a searching look.

"Am I so terrible?" she asked. Feigning hurt.

" _Aye_ ," Jon said. " _Terrible."_

His eyes and smile told her she was anything but.

" _And_   _beautiful,"_ Jon said.

"And what does  _that_ have to do with anything?" Daenerys asked. Looking annoyed with him now.

"She would have probably cut my cock off in my sleep," Jon said. "Just to make sure I was faithful."

Daenerys couldn't help but laugh. Jon being unfaithful was a thought too absurd to contemplate. She saw a curious look crossed his face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"There's something you should know," Jon said. He looked pained. "I betrayed her."

"You couldn't," Daenerys said. "You'd never betray anyone."

"I betrayed her," Jon insisted. "I... I'm the reason she's dead. Because of me."

"Tell me," she said.

When he was finished, she soothed him with an embrace.

"It's not your fault," she told him. "You only did your duty."

"Aye," Jon said. "My duty as a man of the Night's Watch. And she paid for it with her life."

"You had no choice," Daenerys told him. "They would have killed you."

"Sometimes it feels like I've never made the right choice," Jon said. His voice was thick with grief and regret. "Not once."

"I'm grateful for your choices," Daenerys said. "Because they led you here.  _To me._ "

Then, she kissed him.

"You're not a man of the Night's Watch anymore," she observed. Later.

"You're right," he said. "I'm just a man."

"A good man," Daenerys reminded him. "And a king.  _Still_."

"A king has his duties too," he reminded her. "As does a queen."

"When the time comes..." Jon began.

"You'll do what you always have," Daenerys said. Stroking his cheek. "You'll do what's right. I know it."

This time, he kissed her.

 

 


	5. The Small Council

**The Small council**

Jon was staring at her. _Again._

Daenerys could feel them on her. His eyes. Dark and grey. Like some storm that threatened to carry her off. Brooding. Longing. Passionate.

Daenerys saw Jon catch himself staring at her. Then he looked away pointedly. She saw him chide himself for it. Instructing himself to stop staring at her.

And then he would direct his gaze elsewhere. Anywhere else. Everywhere else. But his eyes couldn't stay away. Eventually, they'd return to her. He was utterly useless when it came to hiding his feelings. She could read him like an old book.

Daenerys held on to the feeling of exasperation as best she could. Clung to it. Reminded herself that she was the Queen. Not a lovelorn teenager giddy with the first flush of love. But she couldn't help herself. Underneath all her magnificent furs and silken dresses, she was still a girl.

 _He loves me_ , she couldn't help thinking. _He loves me, he loves me, he loves me...._

Jon hadn't said the words, of course. But his eyes had told her. Countless times. In countless ways. Ever since he'd knocked on the door of her quarters, only a few days ago. And in every moment since then. As they were telling her right now. Jon didn't have to say the words. She _knew._

Daenerys could feel other eyes as well. Quizzical. Reproachful. Disapproving. The eyes of her small council. None had dared broach the subject with her, of course. The damned cowards. They held their tongues and condemned her with their silence and their eyes.

Only Tyrion had made some crack about Jon's utter devotion to her. Daenerys had let it pass without comment, turning her icy gaze on the half-man. Watched him squirm.

Finally, her patience at an end, she'd turned to glare at Jon. To tell him to stop staring at her. At least that had been her intent. But when her eyes caught his, she only found herself smiling at him. Like a lovelorn fool. And then Daenerys chided herself for staring at _him._ And looked away.

She dismissed her small council soon after. Even as her advisors made to make themselves scarce, Jon lingered.

“Your grace,” Jon said. “If I could have a word.”

“Of course,” Daenerys said. Casually. Keeping her eyes on the maps laid out in front of her.

Suddenly, she felt another pair of eyes on her. When she lifted her gaze, she found Tyrion looking at her. His look was guarded.

“Yes?” Daenerys asked.

“I'd like a word too, your grace,” Tyrion said.

“Go on,” Daenerys said. Trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.

“Oh it's no matter,” Tyrion said. Keeping his face impassive and his tone as neutral as he could manage. “I can wait until Jon _has finished._ ”

Jon's jaw stiffened.

“You'd be waiting a _long time_ , my lord,” Jon said. Gruffly.

 _Just what I need,_ Daenerys thought. _A pissing contest between Jon and Tyrion. Men. Ugh._

Jon at least had the decency to look embarassed when she glared at him.

“My legs could do with some stretching,” Jon announced, shooting her an apologetic look. He bowed his head to his queen and left.

Silence enveloped the room. Daenerys saw Tyrion's mouth tighten.

“Your grace,” he began. Carefully.

Daenerys felt her ire rise. Suddenly, she was tired. Of all of it. Of pretending. Of tiptoeing around. Suddenly, she didn't care.

“ _You disapprove_ ,” Daenerys said.

Daenerys was pleased at the surprise in Tyrion's eyes.

“It doesn't matter whether I approve,” Tyrion said. Defensively.

“You're right,” Daenerys said. Coldly. “ _It does not._ ”

Tyrion took a moment, allowing that arrow to pass. Collected his thoughts.

“Be that as it may,” Tyrion said. “I am still your Hand. And as your Hand....”

The words died in Tyrion's throat. Her eyes flashed a warning to him. They were cold and calculating.

“ _Go on_ ,” Daenerys said.

“I like Jon Snow,” Tyrion began. “He is a _good man._ ”

“He is,” Daenerys said. Then she raised a brow at him.

“I just....don't wish to see you.... _distracted_ ,” Tyrion finished.

“ _Distracted_?” Daenerys asked. Her lips quirked upwards.

“We're at war, your grace,” Tyrion said. “A war for our very survival. Do you really think it wise...”

“Have you seen the army of the dead, my lord?” Daenerys interrupted.

The air seemed to leave Tyrion's chest.

“No, your grace,” Tyrion said.

“Well, I have,” Daenerys said. “I know exactly what we face in battle. So I have no need of your approval or your lectures. _I am the Queen. And I shall do as I please. With whom I please._ ”

There was a moment of silence.

 _Hold your tongue,_ Tyrion told himself. _Hold your tongue._

“No matter the cost?” Tyrion asked.

Daenerys' eyes flashed at Tyrion's defiance.

“Explain yourself,” she said. Angrily.

 _Damn it,_ Tyrion thought, _Fool of a dwarf_

“I advised against going north to rescue Jon,” Tyrion said. “You returned with one less dragon.”

Tyrion saw her temper flare. And resisted the urge to cower.

“So I should have just let him die?” Daenerys asked. Furiously.

“Yes,” Tyrion said. “You should have.”

The thought of it pained her, Tyrion saw. Daenerys looked away.

“What happens the next time you have to make a choice?” Tyrion asked. Gently. “If you had to choose between your dragons and Jon? If you had to choose between the seven kingdoms and Jon? What would you choose?”

Daenerys didn't answer for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice was choking with anger and sadness.

“So what would you have me do?” Daenerys asked. “Spend the rest of my life _alone_?”

“Of course not,” Tyrion said.

She heard him exhale.

“Then here is the _other_ matter,” he said. Daenerys looked at him quizzically.

“ _He is a bastard,_ ” Tyrion said. As delicately as he could manage. Trying not to offend her. And failing.

“Jon is _much more_ than a bastard,” Daenerys said. Fiercely. “He was _named_ Commander of the Night's Watch. He was _named_ King in the North.”

“He has accomplished much in his young life,” Tyrion admitted. “But that does not make him a consort _worthy_ of the queen.”

“ _I see,_ ” Daenerys said. “Then perhaps, you had _another suitor_ in mind?”

When she turned her beautiful eyes on him, Tyrion saw they were accusing. Disappointed. Her words were mocking. For once, Tyrion was lost for words.

 _She knows,_ Tyrion thought. _She knows._

He lowered his head.

“Your grace...” he began.

“Thank you for your advice, my lord,” Daenerys said.

Her voice was strangely flat. Tyrion knew he was being dismissed. He bowed, then moved to leave the room.

“ _Tyrion,_ ” Daenerys called after him. The dwarf halted in his tracks.

“ _Never speak of Jon that way again,_ ” Daenerys commanded.

When Jon entered the room later, Daenerys was hunched over the table. Staring at the maps. As if they would unlock some secret treasure. Jon took a few steps forward and placed a kiss on her neck.

“I've missed you,” he said. Shutting his eyes and inhaling her scent. Breathing her in. Wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

“Have you?” Daenerys asked. Her voice was indifferent.

And with that she pushed him off and walked away, leaving him nonplussed.

“You know I have,” Jon said. Frowning.

When Daenerys turned to face him, her eyes were cold.

“Is that all you can think about?” Daenerys asked. Disdainfully. “ _My body?_ ”

 _She's upset_ , Jon thought. _You need to soothe her._

“Of course not,” Jon said. “You know it isn't. _Daenerys_...”

When Jon moved to comfort her, Daenerys swatted his hand away. As if he was infected with some disease.

“ _You grow too familiar, Ser_ ,” Daenerys snapped.

Jon couldn't fathom the anger in her eyes. He felt like she'd slapped him. He suspected he'd done something wrong, but he didn't know the first thing about how to make it better.

 _God, he was hopeless when it came to women and their feelings,_ Jon thought.

So Jon did the only thing he could think of. He retreated.

“Forgive me your grace,” Jon said. Stiffly. “For any offence I might have caused. I shall return to my quarters.”

Jon bowed his head, then turned his back on her. But that only seemed to increase her anger. Her voice was a fiery whip across his back.

“I didn't give you _permission to leave_ ,” Daenerys said. _Haughtily._ “I am _your queen_. Or have you forgotten?”

Now, Jon grew angry.

 _Then try acting like it_ , Jon thought. He bit back that retort, He turned around and tried to keep his anger in check.

“ _Aye_ ,” Jon said. Gritting his teeth. “ _You are my queen_.”

He took a breath to compose himself. Dull the anger.

“But I am still _a free man_. And you may be the most powerful person in the seven kingdoms, but you can't compel me to stay.”

“Your grace,” Jon forced himself to add.

And with that, he turned his back to her. A step later, her voice halted him.

“Would you wager the seven kingdoms on that?” Daenerys asked. Her voice was arrogant.

Jon was at his wits' end now. He took a deep breath. Telling himself to keep his calm. When he turned around, he found Daenerys wearing a smile. And nothing else. Her eyes gleaming. The angry words died on his lips. Jon felt the breath knocked out of him.

Danaery saw the effect she had on him. And added to his torture by moving away from him. Teasing him with her eyes as as she settled on the bed, giving him a playful look. Jon inhaled deeply, then stepped towards her.

“I thought you were leaving,” Daenerys said. Casually. Pretending she didn't care if she never saw him again. Didn't care whether he lived or died. She sounded greatly amused. Jon took in a deep, cleansing breath.

“I've changed my mind,” he said. Taking another step towards her. His eyes growing ever bolder as they ran over her body.

“ _Have you?_ ” Daenerys asked. Shooting him a knowing look. “Or did I _compel you_ to stay?”

Jon shook his head, but he couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped his chest. Which made Daenerys smile. Jon began undoing his clothes as he stepped toward Daenerys. Slowly. Deliberately. Increasing her desire for him. Until he was at the foot of her bed. Staring at her.

“What am I going to do with you?” Jon wondered. Part of him was beyond exasperated with her. The other part was driven to madness with desire.

“I'm sure you could think of _something,_ ” Daenerys said. Flirtatiously.

“ _Aye,_ ” Jon said. “That, I could.”

Jon kicked off off his boots, then shrugged off his furs, letting them fall onto the bed. Daenerys moved quickly, snatching them up, scooting backwards and wrapping herself in it. Shielding her body from his gaze.

Jon watched Daenerys nuzzle the furs as he shed his clothes. Saw her enjoying its warmth. His warmth. Inhaling his scent. Delighting in it. Just watching her was enough to have him straining at his self-control.

“I've changed my mind as well,” Daenerys declared. Her voice was scornful, but her eyes gave the game away. “You may leave my chambers. _At once._ ”

Jon shook his head.

“I'm not going anywhere, _my queen_ ,” Jon declared.“Not until I'm _finished_ with you.”

“ _Insolent wretch_ ,” Daenerys declared, feigning outrage. She sat up and held the furs to her breast. “I should have you whipped.”

She kicked at him. Playfully. Jon caught her leg and brought it to his mouth, kissing her ankle. Daenerys' breathing became heavier as he began planting kisses up her leg. Her calf. Her thigh. His beard tickling her smooth skin.

“I'm game,” Jon said.

That got her attention. Daenerys gave him an intrigued look.

“As long as you're the one doing the whipping,” Jon added. Grinning.

“Why Jon,” Daenerys said. Wearing a scandalised expression. “I had no idea you had such a _filthy imagination_.”

“I'm a man of great many interests,” Jon said. “ _My queen._ ”

And then he just stared at her. Until her lovely eyes flashed impatience.

“ _Well_ ,” Daenerys asked. Finally. “Are you just going to stare at me?”

“I might,” Jon said. “I enjoy staring at you.”

That made her blush. And drop her eyes.

“ _I don't_ ,” she said. “So stop it.”

Jon smiled.

“ _Liar_ ,” he said.

“I don't,” she insisted. With great effort, Daenerys formed her face into a frown. “I _hate_ it.”

Jon placed a hand on her thigh. Enjoying its warmth and how her breathing got heavier.

“Then you're going to hate this,” Jon said. Dipping his head between her legs.

“And what do you think you're doing?” Daenerys asked. Feigning anger, even as she spread her legs to accommodate him and lay backwards. Her eyes ordering him to place his mouth where she most desired it.

“Pledging myself,” Jon said, taking a deep breath and inhaling her sweet scent. Daenerys saw his mouth twitch and his tongue swipe out. “Swearing fealty.”

“Unless you'd prefer I leave?” Jon asked.

This time, Jon's dark eyes shone with amusement. Daenerys made a great show of considering her options.

“You may stay,” Daenerys declared. Turning her chin up at him. As if he was entirely unworthy of consideration. “As long as you _remember your proper place._ ”

 _As if there's any place I'd rather be,_ Jon thought. It brought a smirk to his face.

Daenerys impatiently tapped her feet on his back, ordering him to get going.

“And what of my pleasure?” Jon enquired.

His eyes wandered to her breasts, which were rising and falling under his furs. Faster and faster in anticipation.

“You shall have none,” Daenerys ruled. “As punishment for defying your queen.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Jon said. Knitting his brows together.

“Be silent,” Daenerys hissed. “ _Or I shall order you out_.”

Jon raised his brow. Daenerys was drenched and he'd barely even touched her.

“ _I think not_ ,” Jon said. A cocky smile on his face as he kissed her thigh. Noisily. Never taking his eyes off her face.

Daenerys' nose flared in a mixture of anger and arousal.

“Do not test me,” Daenerys warned. Fixing him with a deadly glare. “Most men would crawl on their hands and knees over shattered dragonglass if I were to only _look_ upon them favourably.”

Daenerys saw Jon's eyes flash at that thought. Of her looking at another man favourably. Of another man touching her.

“ _You will not look upon anyone else favourably,”_ Jon said. His voice was muffled with anger. “ _Not as long as I draw breath._ ”

“ _Won't I_?” Daenerys asked. Her eyes darkened as well.

Jon raised his head. His eyes were as black as night. They captivated her.

“ _I will not allow it, Daenerys,”_ Jon said. His voice was hard. His words were a command. “ _You're my queen.”_

Daenerys couldn't explain it. Why his words, which if spoken by any other man, would have sent her into a bout of uncontrollable rage, only served to so inflame her desire.

The way he was looking at her. The deep timbre of his voice. His eyes. It was far too much. Daenerys found herself quivering. And Jon smiled.

“And if anyone so much as _looks_ at you,” Jon added.“I'll _kill_ them.”

And with that vow, Jon buried his face in her. Daenerys gasped when he pulled her folds into her mouth. _Loudly._ And with a delightful 'slurp'. She gasped again when he began feasting on her. Hungrily. Greedily. He was crazed with desire. Daenerys looked down to see her juices coat Jon's beard and drip down his chin. And moaned.

When Jon slipped his tongue inside her, Daenerys bucked her hips upwards and wrapped her legs around his shoulders, pulling him closer to her womb. Uncaring if she cut off his air.

She wailed when he parted her folds with his fingers, allowing his tongue to penetrate her even deeper. And then, when she was nearing the apex of her pleasure, Jon abandoned his task.

Daenerys whimpered in protest as Jon moved up her body and trapped her under his weight. She attempted to satisfy herself, but Jon was having none of it. He grabbed her hands and placed them over her head.

“ _Bastard_ ,” Daenerys cursed. _Weakly._

A moment later, her eyes widened. In shock. At what she'd said. In her ardour, she'd entirely forgotten herself. But before she could issue a hasty apology, she saw Jon smirk.

“ _Aye_ ,” Jon said. “Of Winterfell.”

Jon was amused by the anger, arousal and embarassment in her eyes. It was a heady cocktail. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he found himself wanting to fan the flames in her eyes.

“ _Now_ , _my queen,_ ” Jon said. Caressing her lovely cheek with his palm. The anger in her eyes dulled, just a little. Still, she turned her face and bit his palm.

“ _First_ , I shall have my furs,” Jon declared, dropping his eyes to her chest. Her beautiful breasts were hidden from his gaze, but her nipples were peeking out. “And then, I shall _have you_.”

“ _You shall not_ ,” Daenerys vowed. Her eyes blazed with defiance. She attempted to throw him off, but to no avail. He was too strong for her.

“I shall _have you_ ,” Jon vowed. Cupping her chin. Staring into her eyes. “ _Any way_ I damn well please. And as _many times_ as I damn well please.”

The words made her shudder. Jon kissed her. Deeply. Allowing her to taste herself on his lips. Daenerys bit his lip. Hard. But Jon was undaunted. He only deepened the kiss further. Thrusting his tongue inside her mouth. Forcefully.

When his tongue found hers, the kiss changed. It became something different. Something soft and slow and languid. Then they were exchanging a thousand soft, small kisses. And rubbing their noses together.

“ _I was talking about the furs,_ ” Daenerys said. “ _Idiot.”  
_

Jon placed his hand on her breasts. Boldly. He squeezed them, then attempted to remove the damned furs. Daenerys resisted, clasping them to her chest.

“Do not touch _my furs_ ,” Daenerys chided. “ _Northern savage_.”

“ _Your furs_?” Jon asked. Outraged. Even as he peppered her face with soft kisses.

“They're _mine_ now,” Daenerys said. “I'm _the queen._ And I take what I please.”

“ _As do I_ ,” Jon said. When he attempted to remove the furs again, she stilled his hand with hers.

“But it's nice and warm,” Daenerys protested. “And _soft_.”

“You're nice and warm,” Jon said. “And _soft._ ”

Daenerys smiled. “Is that your idea of pillow talk?”

Jon was preoccupied elsewhere. He managed to lift the furs from her chest and wrap it around her shoulders, baring her breasts to his gaze. He licked his lips at the sight of her. Gave her a smug look.

“It's cold,” Daenerys explained. Weakly.

“As you say,” Jon said. Smirking.

He tweaked a nipple with his finger. Languidly. Grinning as his queen attempted to keep up her icy facade. Enjoying watching her melt in his arms.

When Jon cupped her quim with his other hand, Daenerys ached into him. Jon probed her with his fingers.

“ _Yes_?” Jon queried.

Daenerys nodded her approval, but Jon only clucked his tongue.

“I shall have the words from you as well, _my queen._ ”

Daenerys slapped his shoulders. Impatiently. She didn't even try to fight. Her need was far too great.

“ _Take me_ ,” Danareys said. Glaring at him. “ _Before_ I change my mind.”

Jon chuckled. They both knew she was bluffing, but Daenerys just couldn't help herself. She always had to be in command. Even if she didn't want to be.

“And _how_ should I take you?” Jon wondered. “Hmmm?”

Daenerys shot him a deadly look. Jon knew he would pay for this dearly, but he didn't care. It was worth it. He added to her torture by placing another finger inside of her.

Then, he twisted, making her lift her hips and cry out. By now, he was well acquainted with her body. He knew exactly where to touch and tease. She'd taught him well. Far too well for her own good.

“You can take me,” Daenerys said. Pulling his face down to meet hers. Her nose flaring and her eyes afire.“ _Any way_ you damn well please.”

Later, they lay in bed. Wrapped up in one another. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heart.

“I thought you were angry with me,” Jon ventured.

“I was angry,” Daenerys admitted. Looking up to see him frown. She touched his face. “But not with you.”

“ _Tyrion_ ,” Jon muttered. His mood darkened. “I should throw him overboard.”

“ _Don't_ ,” Daenerys said. Softly. Kissing his shoulder.

“Why not?” Jon asked.

“Because,” Daenerys said. Sighing. Laying her hands upon his chest. Enjoying feeling the muscled flesh under her fingers. Running her fingers across it. “Then I'd have to throw _you_ overboard to get him.”

 _He was far too pretty for a man,_ Daenerys thought. Ruefully.

Not having him in her bed every night when they reached the North would drive her to distraction. And she'd miss waking up in his arms even more. She found herself needing him like she needed to draw breath. It worried her. Frightened her.

“You'd do that to me?” Jon asked.

Playing as if she'd wounded him. Daenerys was wise to his game.

She withheld a smile and flicked his nipple with her thumb.

She let her thumb flick his nipple.

“ _I would,_ ” Daenerys said.

“How cruel you are to me,” Jon said. Sullenly.

He raised her chin and stole a kiss from her soft lips to make up for it.

“ _I like being cruel to you_ ,” Daenerys said. Smiling.

“Daenerys the Cruel,” Jon sighed, shaking his head. “That's what I shall name you.”

Daenerys responded by tweaking his nipple. Hard. Making Jon wince. And then she kissed him. Suddenly, Jon disentangled from her. Leaving her wrapped up in his furs and bewildered.

“ _Where are you going_?” Daenerys asked.

Jon cocked his head towards the window.

“Sun will be up soon,” Jon said.

Daenerys understood. She knew she was the one who'd told him she wanted to keep things between them as discreet as they could, but she couldn't help but sulk.

“ _Fine_ ,” she said. “ _Leave_. Abandon your queen in her time of need.”

When Jon laughed, she kicked him on his perfect bottom. Jon turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing. He went back to collecting his clothes and pulling them on, watching her from the corner of his eye. She was still wrapped up in his furs.

His queen was such a gorgeous little thing, Jon thought. So full of life and fire. He never wanted to leave her.

“If you want me to stay,” Jon said. Quietly. “I'll stay. You know that.”

Jon was looking at her with such hope, Daenerys thought. It hurt her heart.

 _I want to,_ Daenerys thought. Gods, _I want to so much._

“You know we can't do that,” Daenerys said. Her voice was sad.

Jon nodded. He stood up.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Danaery asked. Gesturing to the furs around her shoulders.

“They're your furs now,” Jon said.

Her expression changed. First to something soft. Then a look of discomfort settled across her face.

“ _Jon_ ,” Daenerys said. Shaking her head. “I can't keep them.”

“Why not?” Jon asked.

“You know why,” Daenerys said. For once, her voice was small. Jon looked annoyed with her. He knit his brows together, as if she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

“You are a queen, are you not?” Jon asked.

“ _I am,_ ” Daenerys said. Cautiously. Gauging his angle of attack and how best to parry it.

“And queens are in the habit of receiving gifts,” Jon said. “Are they not?”

Daenerys said nothing. She wanted to keep it. But she knew she shouldn't. Couldn't.

“It's a gift,” Jon said. “That's all.”

He ignored the skeptical look she gave him.

“Besides,” Jon added. “I'd imagine the northern lords would enjoy seeing the Dragon Queen wearing northern furs. It would send a message.”

Jon attempted to keep his voice even, but Daenerys knew this game. She was a master and he was but a mere novice. If she'd let him have his way, he'd have her wearing a sign that said 'property of Jon Snow'.

“ _Jon_ ,” Daenerys chided him. Gently. Even as she held the furs to her tighter. Looking away from him. Jon approached her and cupped her face, making her look at him.

“Everything I have is yours,” he said. “Everything I am. You know that, don't you?”

Daenerys' eyes softened. Her heart soared.

 _I know,_ she thought.

“Swear it,” she said.

“I swear,” Jon replied. Stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She stared into his eyes for a long time.

“I don't believe you,” Daenerys said.

Smiling when she saw hurt in Jon's eyes.

 _Idiot_ , she thought.

“But I'm willing to be convinced,” Daenerys said. Playfully. And pulled him back to bed.

Later...

“We reach White Harbour in a few hours,” Daenerys said.

And then she'd said nothing. Searching for words that never came. He was sitting at the foot of their bed. Watching her.

“You don't want anyone to know,” Jon said. Finally.

“It's not that I don't _want_ anyone to know,” Daenerys began. Haltingly. Flinching at the look on his face. He looked sad.

“No?” Jon asked. Gruffly. For once, he turned away from her.

“Not ashamed of having shared your bed with a bastard?”

Daenerys put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulders.

“You know I'm not,” she said. Softly. “And you're not just a bastard. _You're a king._ ”

Not for long, Jon thought. He wondered if she'd want him afterwards, then had to chide himself for it. He knew her better than that.

“Is this about _them_?” Jon asked. He sounded irritated now. “Because I already told you that I don't care what _they_ think. Any of them.”

“It's not about _them,_ ” Daenerys said. “I am a queen. And you are a king. We can do as we please.”

“What is it then?” Jon asked.

Daenerys paused.

“The _foreign whore_ that seduced our king,” Daenerys said. “That's what your people will call me.”

Jon was shocked by her bluntness, Daenerys saw. And then she saw his temper flare.

“If anyone disrespects you,” Jon said. Gritting his teeth. “I'll have their heads.”

Daenerys soothed him with a hug. And shook her head.

“If you kill every man who disrespects me,” Daenerys said. “You'll be the only one left alive.”

Jon considered it.

“That doesn't sound so bad,” he said. Making her frown.

“I'll have you all to myself then,” Jon added, turning his face towards her, stealing a kiss from her. Daenerys gave him another for good measure.

“Your people have enough reasons to hate me,” Daenerys said. “We don't need to give them more.”

She had the truth of it, Jon knew. He nodded his assent. Reluctantly.

“I don't want this to end,” Jon said. Suddenly.

Daenerys saw doubt in his eyes. Sadness. Saw him steel himself.

“But if that's what you want...” he added.

 _Oh no,_ Daenerys thought. Jon had misunderstood her entirely. _He thought she was ending things with him._

It was so absurd, it made her want to burst out laughing.

 _Don't laugh,_ Daenerys told herself. _Don't laugh at him._

By now, Daenerys knew enough about men to know that no matter their strength or fierceness, deep down, they were frail little boys. Quick to anger and even quicker to hurt.

“ _This_?” she said. Teasingly. She couldn't help herself.

Daenerys saw Jon retreat within himself. And hated herself for it.

“Forgive me,” Jon said. Stiffly. “I should return.....”

Daenerys searched for a response Anything that would make him stay.

“Don't go,” she said.

“ _Your grace..._ ” Jon began.

This time, Daenerys flinched. And in her desperation to make him see he'd misunderstood, said what she'd never said to any other man.

“I don't want this to end either,” she added. Quickly.

 _Ever_ , she wanted to say.

“We just have to be... _discreet,_ ” she finished.

That made Jon smile, she saw. The sorrow behind his eyes lightened.

“And how long am I allowed to stay?” Jon asked. “Seeing that we're being _discreet_ and all _._ ”

“ _Forever_ ,” Daenerys said. “Does forever work for you?”

Jon nodded.

They were lying in bed. Idly. Too exhausted to move. Just holding each other.

“Jon,” she said.

“Hmmmm,” he said.

“I was given another prophecy in Mereen,” Daenerys said. “That... I'd be betrayed. _Thrice_.”

Jon said nothing.

“Once for gold,” Daenerys began. “Once for blood. And...”

She paused.

“And once for love.”

Jon said nothing.

“I've already been betrayed twice,” Daenerys confided. Lowering her eyes.

Jon cupped her face. He looked pained by the very thought of it.

“I would never...”

“I know,” she cut him off.

He'd rather die than hurt her. She knew that. She kissed him for it. When the kiss ended, for once, the silence between them was less than comfortable.

“Not Missandei or Grey Worm,” Daenerys said.

“No,” Jon agreed. “Not them.”

 _Gods, he hated this_ , Jon thought. _This wasn't his strong suit._

“Ser Jorah,” Jon began.

He held back, knowing he needed to tread carefully. He liked Ser Jorah. Respected him. Loved his father like he was his own. Admired him. He also knew the knight loved Daenerys and that she loved him. In her own way.

“He wasn't happy to see us sail together,” Daenerys agreed. “But that doesn't make him a traitor. Besides, he's already betrayed me once.”

“He has?” Jon was surprised at that.  
  


“It was nothing,” Daenerys said. Dismissively. “Jorah has been loyal to me for far longer than he ever was a traitor. He'd die for me.”

Daenerys noted the look on Jon's face. He was jealous. She considered teasing Jon, but decided against it. It was far too touchy a subject and she didn't want to hurt his feelings. Not truly.

“Varys?” Jon asked.

“Perhaps,” Daenerys said. “Who knows what threads the spider weaves? After all, he did betray my father to serve Robert.”

“He found a better king to serve,” Jon pointed out. “Where is he going to find a better ruler than you? Cersei?”

Jon snorted. Daenerys chuckled. She was enjoying his compliments far too much for her own liking, she reflected. It unnerved her.

“What about _you_?” Daenerys said.

Jon frowned.

“I thought we weren't talking about me,” he said.

“I'm the queen,” Daenerys reminded him. Poking him in the chest. “ _I decide_ what we talk about.”

“I see,” Jon said. Sighing.

“You wouldn't conspire with Varys to steal my throne?” Daenerys asked. She cocked her head to one side. And narrowed her beautiful eyes. She feigned distrust. “Would you?

“Not unless he asked _nicely_ ,” Jon quipped.

Daenerys laughed.

 _They were down to just one name,_ Jon thought. _He knew he had to be the one to give voice to that thought. She couldn't bring herself to say it._

“Tyrion,” he said. _Quietly_.

“Has served as my Hand,” Daenerys said. Her voice was soft.

“Loyally,” she added. After a long beat.

“And?” Jon asked.

“I don't know,” she admitted.

A moment later, Daenerys saw a shadow cross his face. Only for an instant.

“What?” she asked. Suddenly.

Jon shook his head. “It's nothing,” he said.

“Tell me,” she insisted.

“Daenerys... it's not my place.”

“ _Jon_ ,” she said.

Jon exhaled. Loudly.

“Tyrion...”

Jon blinked.

He didn't know how to say it. If he should say it.

“Is in love with you,” he said. Simply.

Daenerys looked at him as if he'd lost his wits.

“Tyrion _is not_ in love with me,” Daenerys said. Firmly.

When Jon said nothing, she got antsy.

“He's not,” Daenerys insisted. “You're being ridiculous.”

Jon refused to be drawn into this conversation. He'd said his peace.

“You're not _jealous_ are you?” she asked. Touching his face.

“You don't have to be jealous _of Tyrion_. He's my Hand. Nothing more.”

“Daenerys,” Jon said. Quietly. Firmly. He looked at her. “He loves you.”

It took her a moment to understand what Jon was saying. His eyes were pained.

_I know. Because I...._

“Daenerys,” Jon began. She could see it in his eyes. The truth of it. Her breath caught in her chest. It overwhelmed her. It _frightened_ her. Like she'd never been frightened before.

 _It was too much,_ Daenerys thought. _Far too much. Far too soon._

So she changed the subject. By kissing him.

It was time. They'd reached White Harbour. While the past two weeks had been bliss, it was time for them to get back to the real world. And face it. _Together._

“How do I look?” Daenerys asked.

“Like a queen,” Jon said. Smiling at her. Approvingly.

Daenerys wondered how he could melt her heart with the simplest of words. How those three simple words could mean more to her than a thousand men bending the knee.

She gazed at him with admiration. He was adjusting the furs around his neck and the sword in his scabbard. Without vanity or even a hint of arrogance.

“And you look like a king,” Daenerys said _._

The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop herself. She knew she sounded like a lovelorn maid but she didn't care.

 _I want you,_ she meant.

He smiled at her. A secret smile meant only for them. It thrilled her.

“I know,” he said.

That made her raise a brow.

_He knew, did he?_

“After all,” he added. “I am _still_ a king.”

They shared a final, secret smile. They knew things would be different once they were upstairs. Things had to be different. They both knew. The smiles faded from their faces.

“We should...” Daenerys began.

“Aye,” Jon said. “We should.”

They took one last breath.

“After you,” Jon said. “ _My queen._ ”

Daenerys felt her heart flutter. She touched his arm.

“Jon,” she said.

“We stay _together_ ,” she reminded him. He nodded.

“ _Together,_ ” he said.

He followed her upstairs. For the first time, truly appreciating what it was like to be her. The bowed heads. Men and women falling on their knees in front of her. Weeping. Calling her mother.

Only when Daenerys stepped out onto the deck of the boat, did he step to her side. Daenerys was caught off guard by the cold. The sheer ferocity of it. The wind cut her to the bone. She shivered. Before she could protest, Jon had whipped off his furs and slung them around her shoulders.

“You should dress warmer my queen,” Jon said. “The North can be unforgiving.”

“Thank you,” she said. Staring into his eyes.

 _I want you,_ she meant.

Only a moment later did Daenerys realise what had just occurred. She was wearing Jon's furs. In front of everyone. Just as he'd intended.

 _Sneaky bastard,_ Daenerys thought.

She fixed Jon with a look, enjoying the stare he sent back, asking for forgiveness mixed with a tinge of discomfort and defiance.

Daenerys found herself pleasantly warmed, though she couldn't decide if it was the furs or the pleased look on Jon's face..

Tyrion interrupted them. Much to her annoyance.

“Your grace,” Tyrion said. Bowing to his queen. Jon stepped back. To a more respectful distance.

“My lord,” Daenerys said. Gently inclining her heard.

 _To Jon he said nothing,_ Daenerys noted. Her eyes flickered between her Hand and her lover. Back and forth.

“My lord,” Jon said. Respectfully.

“Your grace,” Tyrion replied. He paused.

“Well, actually it is my lord now, isn't it?”

Jon said nothing. His face gave nothing away.

Tyrion continued. “I do wonder about these things. After all, you have pledged yourself to our queen. And a king who bends the knee cannot truly name himself king.”

Tyrion paused. “Of course, you haven't really bent the knee, have you? That comes only after we reach Winterfell. Which leads me back to my original question. Is it your grace or my lord?”

Daenerys felt flames of anger flicker at her. Tyrion was insulting Jon. Without provocation. She couldn't understand why. After all, it was Tyrion who'd vouched for Jon. For his honour. For his loyalty. And he'd been proven correct a million times over.

She remembered Jon's words then. And dismissed them. Tyrion didn't love her. He only _desired_ her. Jon was just being a man. Jealous. Possessive. It was their way.

“Call me whatever you please,” Jon said. Smiling lightly. “It doesn't matter.”

“Your grace, will serve,” Daenerys said. She directed her ire at her Hand. Her voice was like a flaming, coiled whip. Her voice was heated. Tyrion dared not look at his queen.

“Until Jon pledges himself to me before his people he is still the King in the North. And my ally. And as such, my Hand will treat him and accord him all the courtesies as he would myself.”

“Of course,” Tyrion said. He turned to Jon.

“I meant no offence. Forgive me _your grace.”_

Daenerys knew Tyrion well enough to know that his final words were mocking. Jon didn't. Or he didn't care.

“There's nothing to forgive my lord,” Jon said. “After all, we are old friends.”

Tyrion wasn't sure if Jon Snow was the stupidest man he'd ever met or the smartest. It unnerved him.

“Yes,” Tyrion nodded slowly. “Old friends. _Indeed_.”

Daenerys shot Tyrion a look which said: _I shall deal with you later._

Then she turned to Jon.

“Walk with me,” she said. _Softly._ Her voice was gentle.

As they approached the prow, Jon matched her step for step. He never put a foot ahead of her, she noted. Never fell a step behind her either. She smiled to herself, wondering if he was doing it on purpose or if he didn't even know. The latter, she wagered.

Looking out at the gentle waves lapping the shore of White Harbour. The city gleamed back at them. Pure and pristine.

“My advisors. They don't like this. _Us._ ”

She sounded irritable, Jon noted.

“They don't have to like it,” he said. “You are a queen. And I am still a king. We can do as we please.”

That pleased her, Jon saw. Thrilled her.

Daenerys' eyes fell on his gloved hand, which was resting upon the prow. She placed her hand on his. Touched the back of his knuckles. Caressed it. Only for an instant. But it was enough.

Tyrion noticed. He'd been watching them carefully. Hoping and praying that whatever had transpired between them this past month was at an end. Clearly, he'd been mistaken.

 _It was far too early for a drink_ , Tyrion thought. _But I need one anyway._

 

 


	6. Winterfell

**Winterfell**

They were riding North. Jon and Daenerys were at the head of the army. Her scouts were ahead, making sure no enemy was preparing an attack and her Unsullied flanked them, securing their positions from the sides. Her dragons flew in the skies overhead. Their cries had animals, birds and people fleeing in all directions.

Jon looked at her and smiled.

“What?” Daenerys asked.

“Just remembered an old saying we have in the North,” Jon said. “Something father told me when I was a boy.”

Daenerys raised her chin, telling him to continue his tale.

“I was two or three,” Jon said. “I didn't understand _what I was_. Not really. I knew, but I didn't understand. I was far too young.”

Daenerys let her imagination loose. Trying to picture her lover as a child. A quiet child, she thought. Sullen and surly. But adorable. She tried to picture his carefully tied up curls loose. The slightest hint of baby fat on his cheeks.

“We had a guest at Winterfell,” Jon said. “Some high lord or the other. We had a great feast.”

“I wanted to sit with my father. With my brothers. As I always had. But Lady Stark announced it would be a great insult to our honoured guest to be seated with a bastard.”

Daenerys felt pity for the young boy she never knew.

“I cried,” Jon admitted. Sheepishly. “In front of everyone. In front of father. In front of our honoured guest.”

He smiled to himself, but it was a smile filled with pain.

“You were a child,” Daenerys said. She couldn't fathom the cruelty Ned Stark's wife had shown. To a babe, no less. Her voice choked with anger.

“She had no right...”

“She had every right,” Jon said. His voice was sad. Soft. “She was the Lady of Winterfell. And I was her husband's bastard. A living reminder of his betrayal. That he loved another.”

“You were blameless,” Daenerys said. Her voice was tinged with grief.

“Father scooped me up,” Jon said. He was smiling now. Lost in the memory.

“In front of everyone. In front of Lady Stark. _He never did that_. Not with any of the boys. He took me from the hall. He sat me down outside. He kissed my head. Soothed me. And he told me...”

“ _What_?” Daenerys asked. She was intrigued now.

“He said,” Jon paused. “The wolf does not mate with the dragon, Jon.”

Daenerys was taken aback. That was not what she'd expected to hear.

“He knew I loved those stories,” Jon explained.

“That I loved pretending I was Aemon the Dragonknight or Daeron the Good. He made me understand. That while I wasn't a wolf, I could be something else. Something good. Maybe even something better.”

Daenerys smiled.

“ _Well,_ ” she said. “You are a wolf now.”

“Aye,” Jon said. “ _I am_. _Now_.”

“And I am a dragon,” Daenerys said.

“ _Aye_ ,” he said. “ _You are_.”

“So I guess your father was wrong,” Daenerys said. “The wolf does mate with the dragon.”

She smiled wickedly at him. Enjoying watching him blush.

Then Jon looked over the horizon and saw it. _Winterfell_.

Daenerys followed his gaze. She found herself staring at a rather impressive looking castle. It looked exactly as she'd read in the books, she thought. Hard. Unyielding. Foreboding. A hard place for hard men and women.

She looked back at Jon. She saw him drink it in.

“It's beautiful,” she ventured.

He chuckled.

“Not sure anyone's ever called it that,” he said. “But yes. It is. In its own way.”

“It's your home,” Daenerys said. “It is beautiful. And I'd like to see it.”

 _To me,_ she meant. He knew. He smiled at her for it.

“It was never my home,” Jon said. “I lived there all my life. But it was never my home.”

“I couldn't wait to get away,” he added. Shaking his head. “And now...”

“And now?”

They were interrupted by the sound of a rider. Coming straight at them. Jon spurred his horse, putting himself in front of his queen and the stranger.

“Who goes there?” the stranger challenged. His hand rested on his scabbard.

Jon knew this was a man of the North. His voice and clothes gave it away. His hard bitten features gave it away.

“Your king,” he said.

The man looked at Jon for an instant. He blinked. And then he jumped off his horse and to his knees.

“Your grace,” he said. “Forgive me. I didn't....”

“What's your name?” Jon asked.

“Willem,” he said. Keeping his head bowed. “Your grace. I work in your smithies.”

“Ride to Winterfell,” Jon said. “Tell them the King in the North has returned.”

Jon turned back to look at Daenerys. _With my queen_ , he wanted to say. She knew.

“With the Dragon Queen,” he said instead.

Danarys knew he couldn't have said it, but that didn't stop her from feeling a pang of disappointment.

When they approached the gate, they found the road had grown too muddy for their horses. Jon dismounted first, then helped Daenerys with hers. They both knew she hardly needed his help.

She was a better rider than he could ever hope to be. After all, she'd learnt how to ride from the Dothraki. But it gave them an excuse to be close to each other. If only for a moment.

“Thank you,” she said. Staring into his eyes. His hands lingering on her waist for just a moment longer than they needed to.

A flash of movement behind him distracted her. Jon followed her eyes this time. And smiled.

Daenerys saw a woman standing at the gate. _Smiling._ She saw Jon's expression soften. Saw him smile back at this stranger.

 _His sister?_ Daenerys wondered. _But she looked nothing like Jon._

Daenerys noted her beautiful auburn hair and wondered if this was Ygritte. She banished the thought. Jon would never have come to her bed if Ygritte was alive. His honour would never have allowed it. 

Besides, Ygritte had been a wildling. This girl looked the very picture of a high born lady.

 _She was beautiful,_ Daenerys noted, feeling the slightest hint of discomfort in her chest. _And young._ Her heart began to race.

“Come on,” Jon said. “Let me introduce you.”

Daenerys allowed him to take her by the elbow. Gently. Let him carefully guide her steps through the muddy, churning soil.

The closer they got to her, the more beautiful she became, Daenerys realised, with much annoyance. Her eyes flickered to Jon's face. He was smiling. _Still._

Daenerys felt her discomfort grow now. Her heart grow heavier. Beat so fast she could hear drums in her ear.

 _You're being ridiculous_ , she chided herself. _Stop it. Jon isn't like that. He would never..._

And yet, Daenerys couldn't stop herself from imagining the worst. Jon had said nothing.

 _Perhaps because he couldn't find the words to tell her_ , she thought. _A lover?_ she wondered. _A wife?_

Daenerys found herself imagining two little children running up and embracing Jon. And before she knew it, they were standing right in front of _her_.

 _Young and beautiful,_ Daenerys thought. _So very beautiful._

Daenerys noticed the stranger taking her measure. As if she were a rival. Her gaze was cool. Her face was impassive. Daenerys returned her stare. Sizing her up as well. She was a dragon after all. And dragons did not fear mere women.

 _Beautiful yes,_ Daenerys thought. _But cold. Perhaps even bitter. Not the sort Jon would ever go for._

“Your grace,” the young beauty said to Jon. Bowing. “Welcome home.”

Daenerys saw affection mixed with disapproval in the young woman's eyes. Clearly, she wasn't in favour of her king keeping company with the dragon queen. Daenerys wondered if it was indeed jealously she saw reflected in those pretty eyes.

 _You can't have him_ , Daenerys wanted to say. _Jon is mine. He belongs to me._

But Daenerys knew that no matter what happened next, she must play the part of monarch. And play it well. She forged herself into the finest steel.

 _You are a queen,_ Daenerys told herself. _You must be a queen_

“It's good to be back,” Jon said. He looked up at the castle and breathed in the northern air.

“May I introduce,” Jon began. “Daenerys. Of House Targaeryn. Queen of the Andals and the First Men. The Breaker of Chains. The Unburnt. The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. The Mother of Dragons. The Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Daenerys was _exasperated_. She wanted to hit Jon. Strangle him. He was taking _forever._ She saw the young beauty raise her eyebrows at the string of titles attached to Daenerys' name. Just ever so slightly.

“ _Your grace_ ,” the woman said. Bowing so low that Daenerys wondered if she was being mocked. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

 _Even her curtesy was perfect,_ Daenerys noted. The dragon queen noticed the young woman's tone. Aloof. Detached. Jon seemed to notice the icy reception his queen was receiving as well. He frowned.

“And this,” Jon began. He paused. Daenerys shot him a look as if to say: _Get on with it_. _Now._

“Is the _Lady of Winterfell._...”

Daenerys felt her heart stop.She felt numb. She froze. She felt the breath leave her body.

_The Lady of Winterfell? His wife?_

“Sansa Stark,” Jon said. “ _My sister_.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. The emotion that struck her next was relief. Pure, overwhelming relief. Daenerys could have wept for joy.

“Lady Stark,” Daenerys said. Letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding in. “Of course.”

 _Idiot,_ she named herself. _Idiot, idiot, idiot._

Daenerys took a moment to calm herself. Made Sansa wait. As was her royal privilege. And found herself rather enjoying it.

“ _Forgive me_. The road was long and rather unforgiving.”

Daenerys kept her tone cool as well. To the point of indifference. An awkward moment lingered as the women exchanged cold glances. Jon wasn't sure what was happening. He looked between them. Bewildered.

And then Sansa saw _him._

“Tyrion,” Sansa said suddenly. Her eyes widening. She looked shocked.

“Hello Sansa,” Tyrion said. Kindly. “Have you missed your dear husband?”

“Husband?” Daenerys' eyes widened. She stared at her Hand.

“A sham marriage,” Tyrion explained. Momentarily flustered. “At father's insistence. One that was, no doubt, dissolved by a kindly septon as soon as Sansa was spirited away.”

“You should have told me,” Daenerys told Tyrion. _Accusingly._

“There was nothing to tell,” Tyrion said. “Sansa was little more than a prisoner at King's Landing.”

“We were never truly husband and wife,” Sansa assured her.

“Your grace,” she added. Hastily.

“Still...” Danaeys said, shooting Jon a disapproving glance. Her lover shook his head. He wanted no part of this.

“Of course,” Tyrion said. “Forgive me your grace. From now on, I shall keep you apprised of all my marriages. And I hope you'd do me the same courtesy.”

Tyrion gave Jon a rather pointed glance. Daenerys gave Tyrion a look. As if to say: _Mind your words my lord. Or you may end up losing your tongue._

Tyrion stepped back, chastened but unbowed. Daenerys noted, once again, the disapproving look on Jon's sister's face at the mere thought of a royal wedding.

 _Half-sister,_ Daenerys reminded herself.

She wondered if Sansa harboured any secret affections for Jon. She wouldn't blame her if she did. She wouldn't blame any woman for it. She'd still have to kill her of course. Slowly. Painfully.

Daenerys knew that even if Sansa did, Jon would never have looked at Sansa that way. Or even if he did, he would never act on it. He was much too honourable for that.

 _Or perhaps she was just displeased that Jon had pledged himself to her,_ Daenerys pondered. _After all, by acknowledging her as his rightful queen, Jon had given up his kingdom. His land and titles._

By now, Daenerys knew Jon well enough to know that land or titles meant nothing to him. He only cared about his people. Their survival.

 _But hearing their king had pledged himself to the dragon queen would displease them greatly,_ Jon had warned her.Repeatedly.

 _They will not easily kneel for you. Kneeling is not the northern way.You must be patient with them. Like you would with children,_ he'd advised her.

Daenerys knew Jon was telling the truth. He'd never lied to her before. And he never would. But she'd been confident that they'd do as their king bade. But now, seeing the reception his own sister was giving Jon, made Daenerys' confidence waver. Slightly.

Before they'd landed on Dragonstone, Tyrion told her the North was the key to the Seven Kingdoms. His lord father had oft said that he who held the North held the keys to the kingdom.

It was bigger than the rest of the kingdoms put together. The Warden of the North, was, often, other than the King's Hand, the most powerful person in the realm, Tyrion had reiterated.

The person who held it for her would have to be utterly devoted to her. Loyal. Faithful. Only the right person would be able to guarantee that she'd hold onto her crown. And hold onto it for a lengthy period of time.

 _And here he was_ , Daenerys thought, looking at Jon. _Waiting for her. And now by her side. It was almost as if fate had brought them together._

That thought made her smile. And then another thought struck her. As it had so often these days. More and more.

 _If Jon was my king, the North would kneel to me,_ Daenerys thought. _To him. To us. They would name me their queen and be glad of it._

 _Some less glad than others,_ Daenerys mused, looking Sansa up and down. _I'd rather enjoy watching this one kneel and call me Queen._

Daenerys smiled to herself. Sansa noticed. So did Jon. Who looked at her. Quizzically. Daenerys shook her head at him and looked away, withholding a smile.

Then Jon looked at Sansa. Shrugging his shoulders, ever-so-slightly. The silence that followed was uncomfortable and grew quickly.

Sansa decided to take the iniative. By addressing Tyrion.

“You look well my Lord,” Sansa said. Trying to fill in the gaps. Like a proper lady would. “I was glad to hear of your escape.”

“Not as glad as I was,” Tyrion quipped. “I like my head. Especially when it's on my shoulders.”

Sansa smiled at that. Politely.

“You look well,” Tyrion observed. “You look happy.”

“I am well,” Sansa said. Smiling. Geniunely now. “And happy.”

“Good,” Tyrion said. “I'm happy that you're happy.”

They exchanged an awkward smile.

“I never thanked you,” Sansa said. Softly.

Tyrion blinked.

“For what sweet childe?”

“For treating me kindly. For protecting me,” Sansa said. “As best you could.”

Tyrion smiled at that. “You don't have to thank me. I did nothing.”

“You were kind to me,” Sansa said. “I thank you for it.”

Tyrion didn't know what to say. He only nodded at that.

“The Northern lords,” Jon interrupted. “Where are they?”

“Most of them went home,” Sansa said. “ _You were gone a long time_ , your grace.”

Sansa's voice was dripping with disapproval. Daenerys found herself outraged for Jon. She'd never have let anyone speak to her in that way.

Jon looked displeased, Daenerys noted. Even a little angry. Daenerys had to force herself to stay her tongue.

 _Jon is still a king,_ Daenerys reminded herself. _He can fight his own battles._

“Summon them,” Jon said. Gruffly. “I expect them here by morning.”

“Yes, your grace,” Sansa said. Her voice was flat.

“And Littlefinger?” Jon enquired. “Where is he?”

“That...” Sansa began. Looking flustered for the first time. “That's a tale best saved for later, your grace.”

Jon was about to enquire further, but heard a growl.

“ _Jon,_ ” Daenerys gasped. In warning.

Jon turned to see Ghost loping at him. He smiled.

“Come here, you,” Jon said. Opening his arms.

Daenerys opened her mouth to scream. Saw the wolf leap at Jon. For a moment she thought the wolf was attacking him. Then she saw the wolf licking at Jon with his tongue. Baring its stomach so Jon could rub it. Jon gestured to Daenerys to come closer. She stepped forward. Gingerly.

“Daenerys,” he said. “This is Ghost.”

“Ghost,” he said. “This is _Daenerys_.”

He gave the wolf a knowing look. Warning him to be on his best behaviour.

“He's _beautiful_ ,” Daenerys said. Her eyes growing soft.

She bent down, admire the wolf's shiny white coat and his gorgeous eyes. When Jon nodded, Daenerys stroked the soft fur with gentle fingers. It drew a contented growl from Ghost and a smile from her.

Suddenly, Ghost put his nose up as if he sniffed something. Then he nuzzled Daenerys' stomach.

“ _Jon_ ,” Daenerys said. “What's he doing?”

Daenerys' eyes were only a little alarmed. She sounded more amused than anything, Jon saw.

“ _Ghost_ ,” Jon chided. “Stop that.”

But the wolf refused to obey him. Instead, Ghost licked Daenerys' stomach. Making her giggle.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Jon said. He led the wolf away from her. Firmly. To the side. Much to Jon's bewilderment, Ghost didn't seem to want to follow him. He seemed to want to stay with Daenerys.

“You're embarassing me,” Jon said. Sternly. He caressed Ghost.

The wolf looked at Jon, then looked back at Daenerys, who gave him an indulgent smile.

“You like her don't you?” Jon asked. Fondly.“ _Yeah. Me too_.”

Ghost began to whine.

“Don't be getting any ideas,” Jon warned. _“She's mine._ I saw her first. Besides, she's not even your species _._ ”

“Now go on,” Jon instructed Ghost. “Go hunt. I'll come visit you later.”

Ghost seeemed reluctant. Jon knew he needed to assert his dominance after months away.

“ _Ghost_ ,” Jon said. Firmly. “Go on. _Go._ I'll come visit you later. And if you're good, I might even bring _Daenerys_ for a visit.”

Finally, the wolf decided to obey. But only after giving Jon a baleful stare.

“ _Jon_ ,” Daenerys heard a voice say. A small voice. A soft voice. A child's voice.

Daenerys frowned.

 _She'd never heard anyone else call him Jon before_ , she realised. Only _her._

Others had called him King, Lord and Your Grace. Ser Davos. Tyrion. Missandei. Jorah. But never just Jon. It felt queer, hearing his name on someone else's lips. Jon turned to look. So did Daenerys.

A young girl was staring at Jon. Intently.

 _This was his sister,_ Daenerys knew. _Arya. The one he'd thought dead. She even looked like Jon._

The raw emotion on Jon's face took Daenerys aback. It was one he'd only ever shown her when they were alone. Her jealously multiplied and she had to chide herself for it.

“ _Arya_ ,” Jon whispered.

He felt like he'd been stabbed again. Straight in the heart. He smiled, but it was a smile filled with hurt and pain.

Jon shook his head. Arya was alive. His little sister was alive. He'd read the letter of course. But he hadn't let himself believe it. Was afraid to believe it. Not until he'd seen for himself.

Jon took two steps towards her. Arya ran towards him. Daenerys saw them embrace. Saw his shoulders shake. She knew he was trying his best not to break. Her heart gladdened for him.

“Arya,” Jon said. His voice was as rough as his touch was gentle. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too big brother,” Arya said. Her voice was rough too.

Jon pulled back to look at her, then wiped the tears from her face with his glove.

“ _Where were you_?” he asked. “ _How did you survive?”_

“With this,” she told him. Grinning. Daenerys saw her remove a small sword from her scabbard and give it to Jon.

“ _Needle,_ ” Jon said. Daenerys saw him smile. His eyes were filled with wonder. “You still have it? After all these years?”

“I remembered what you said,” Arya said. “Stick them with the pointy end.”

Jon laughed through his tears. And hugged her tight.

Daenerys stepped forward, eager to greet his _beloved_ sister.

“Arya,” Daenerys said, Smiling at the girl. Beaming at her.

“You're the Dragon Queen,” Arya responded. “Aren't you?”

Daenerys noted the look in Arya's eyes. She only looked like a child. But her eyes told her different. She was a survivor. Someone who'd seen far more than her years and been hurt far worse than most people could imagine.

Daenerys knew that look. Because that look was familiar. She saw that look in her mirror, from time to time.

 _Less and less these days, now that she had Jon_ , Daenerys reflected. _He was salve for her wounds._

“I am,” Daenerys said.

“Where are _they_?” Arya said. Her eyes flickered. This way and that. To the sky. With wonder. “Your Dragons?”

“Flying,” Daenerys smiled. “Would you like to see them?”

“I would,” Arya said.

“Then I'd be honoured to show them to you,” Daenerys said.

A look passed between her and Arya. They understood each other. And that Jon didn't. Not yet. Daenerys felt her heart hurt for Jon. He didn't know. He couldn't possibly know.

Arya looked up at her brother. Approvingly.

“She's a pretty one Jon,” Arya remarked. _Casually_. “I wouldn't let her out of my sight if I was you.”

Daenerys flushed. She didn't know what to say. Jon opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable.

“Arya!” Sansa said. _Horrified._

“Forgive my sister your grace,” Sansa said. “She has spent the past few years travelling in low company and her manners have gone entirely to seed.”

Arya made a face at Sansa. The disapproving look Jon gave Arya reminded her so much of father that it made her chest hurt. She hugged Jon tighter. A hug he returned.

“Jon,” Daenerys heard another voice say. A man's voice. But soft. It almost quivered.

 _The voice it belonged to looked soft as well,_ Daenerys noted. _Well fed._

A man dressed all in black. A brother of the Night's Watch.

“ _Sam,_ ” Jon said. She heard surprise in his voice. “You're back.”

“You don't have to sound so _damn unhappy_ about it,” the other man said. He sounded greatly amused by his own joke.

She heard Jon laugh. Saw him walk over and embrace the man. _Warmly_. Daenerys looked over her shoulder. The rest of her retinue was dribbling in after Tyrion. Missandei. Grey Worm. Varys. Ser Jorah.

 _There was no one she could truly call a friend,_ she reflected. Ser Jorah loved her. Tyrion admired her. Grey Worm was a loyal servant.

 _Missandei was the closest thing she had_ , she thought, with much sadness.

She looked at Jon, surrounded by his friends and family. And wished she could be part of it.

Jon seemed to read her thoughts. He brought the man over to her.

“Your grace,” Jon said. “This is Samwell Tarly. The man I trust most in the world. My friend. My brother.”

“Sam. This is her grace. Daenerys Targaeryn.”

“Your grace,” Samwell said. Bowing. With difficulty. His voice stuttered just a little.

 _But his voice was kind,_ Daenerys thought. _His eyes were kind too._

_And filled with just a hint of trepidation. She wondered if he was afraid of her. Of the stories he might have heard of the dreaded Dragon Queen. Daenerys knew her enemies had already spread lurid tales about her._

“ _Samwell_ ,” she heard the deep, booming voice say. Ser Jorah's voice. He sounded astonished.

“ _Ser Jorah_ ,” Samwell said. He sounded equally taken aback.

They clasped hands. As warmly as Jon and Sam had.

“You look well my friend,” Jorah said. Smiling fondly.

“As do you,” Sam said. “I'm glad to see it.”

“Not you two as well?” Daenerys asked. _Exasperated._ Her eyes moving from man to man.

“Khaleesi,” Jorah began. Beaming. “This is man who saved my life at the Citadel. The man who allowed me to return to your service.”

“Then I owe you a great debt Ser,” Daenerys said. Her eyes shined at Sam. “One I can never hope to repay.”

“I'm not a Ser, your grace,” Sam said. Chuckling. Weakly. “I'm just a man of the Night's Watch.”

Tyrion's voice interrupted the love fest.

“Tarly you said,” Tyrion noted. Carefully. “Of Horn Hill?”

“Yes,” Sam smiled. “Have you been there, my Lord?”

“Haven't had the pleasure,” Tyrion demurred quickly. “Your father...”

“Is Randall Tarly,” Sam said. “Dickon Tarly is my brother.”

 _Some of the pleasure drained from his voice,_ Tyrion noted. _Still, he thought. The boy won't like this. Won't like it one bit._

Tyrion glanced at Daenerys. Saw the moment she pieced it all together. Saw the horrified look that flickered across her face. Jon saw it as well. He knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“I don't know how to say this,” Tyrion said. He paused.

“Just say it,” Jon said. His eyes moved from Daenerys to Tyrion. And back to his queen.

“Do you have any wine?” Tyrion asked Jon.

“Tyrion...” Jon said. Impatiently. His eyes flashing.

“Your father and brother,” Daenerys ventured. Then swallowed.

Jon knew. So did Jorah. It was enough. They glanced at each other. As if to confirm it. Jorah gave Sam a kind look. Jon looked at Sam. Clasped his hand on his shoulder. And waited for the sword to fall.

“Are dead,” Tyrion finished.

“Dead?” Sam blinked. He looked bewildered. He stared at Jon. “ _How_?”

Tyrion knew he had to press on. Carefully. The very fate of the northern alliance was in his palm. And despite his misgivings, he knew that one false step could doom them all.

“They were with the Lannister Army,” Tyrion said. Carefully. Offering as few details as he could spare. “When we took them outside Highgarden.”

Tyrion waited for the words to sink in.

“I'm sorry,” Jon said. “I'm so sorry, Sam.”

“Dead,” Sam repeated. He shook his head. “Dead.”

“They fought honourably,” Daenerys said. Quietly. “And died bravely. You should know that.”

Sam didn't appear to hear her.

“Dead,” he said again. Shaking his head. He began to wander off. Directionless.

“Are you sure?” Jon asked. “There's been no mistake?”

“Quite sure,” Tyrion nodded. “Yes.”

Jon looked at Daenerys. She prayed that he would ask no questions of her. And she realised that he was asking her permission to leave her side. To tend to his friend. It made her heart clench. She nodded and watched him trail after Sam.

Jon walked after Sam. His friend was dazed. Moving slowly. As if he were moving through a fog. Jon took him by the shoulder and guided him against the wall.

“Sam,” he began. “Are you all right?”

“I...” Sam began. “ _Dickon_. He's gone too. _Dead._ ”

Jon had no words. He was never good with words.

“I'm sorry,” Jon said. Stupidly. The words felt so weak. So empty.

“I miss _him_ ,” Sam confessed. His smile was weak. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” Jon said. “It's not stupid.”

He saw a guilty look flash across Sam's face.

“I'm a terrible person,” Sam said suddenly. His eyes filled with tears.

Jon was flummoxed.

“You're the best person I know,” Jon said.

“You know what I felt? After I heard my father was dead?” Sam said.

Jon shook his head.

“ _Relief_ ,” Sam said. “ _I was relieved_.”

Jon breathed out.

“Sam,” he said. “You know what he was. What he did to you. You told me. Remember? He'd have murdered you.”

“What type of person?” Sam asked. “His own father...”

“Listen to me,” Jon said. “You're not a bad person Sam. You're just human. Like the rest of us.”

“I need to send a raven,” Sam said. Suddenly. “Tell my mother. My sister. _Gods._ ”

“You could go,” Jon said. “Be with them. Take Gilly and the baby.”

“I'm a man of the Night's Watch,” Sam said. Scandalised. “Even if I wanted to...”

“I'm still a king,” Jon said. “I could return your name to you. Make you heir to Horn Hill. Free you from your vows.”

Sam was tempted, Jon saw. Only for a moment. He didn't blame him. Jon could empathise with what he'd been feeling.

“My place is _here_ ,” Sam said. Firmly. “By your side.”

Jon smiled. His friend was loyal. To the end.

 _You think you know Sam,_ Jon thought. _But you don't. You can't imagine what's coming for us._

“Think about it,” Jon suggested. Gently. “Take your time.”

“I should...” Sam gestured. Weakly.

Jon nodded. Watched Sam turn to go. Saw him pause.

“ _Jon_...” Sam began.

Jon saw Sam swallow. Saw the nervous look on Sam's face. He knew what his friend was going to ask. He prepared himself.

“Are _you._...”

Jon frowned. Kept his expression even.

“And _her_....”

Sam gestured to Daenerys with his head. She was talking with Tyrion, Jon saw. Jon raised his brows.

“ _You know._ ” Sam gave him a look.

Jon tried to keep his face serious. But then he smiled.

“ _Aye_ ,” Jon said.

Jon saw a queer look come over his friend's face. He frowned.

“I thought you'd be _happy_ for me,” Jon said.

“ _I am_ ,” Sam said. The look on his face was rather odd. “ _In a way_.”

Jon found himself confused. He wanted to ask what Sam meant, but his friend interrupted his thought.

“Bran wants to see you,” Sam told him. “He's at the Heart Tree. He said you should come alone.”

Jon frowned at the word 'alone'. Then he nodded.

Daenerys watched Jon walk after his friend. She knew what she needed to do next. She had very little time.

“Tyrion,” she said. “A word.”

“Of course your grace,” Tyrion said. Exceedingly politely.

They walked in the opposite direction. Daenerys waited until there was no one within earshot.

“Don't say it,” she said. _Angrily_. “I don't want to hear it.”

“I wasn't going to say anything,” Tyrion said. _Gently._

For a moment, Daenerys looked like she was going to cry. Tyrion felt his heart melt. And then she was her royal self again.

 _Idiot,_ he named himself. _Fool of a dwarf._

“It's not your fault,” he assured her.

She said nothing.

“You offered them a choice,” he went on. “They made the wrong one. It's as simple as that. You couldn't possibly have known...”

“I should have listened to you,” Daenerys said. “But I was _so angry_. So tired of _losing_.”

Daenerys breathed in deep. She looked over at Jon. Her lover was offering words of succor to his friend. The look on his face was kind.

Daenerys couldn't imagine how angry he'd be with her. The disappointment and pain she'd see in them when he learned what she'd done. It hurt her heart.

Tyion followed her gaze. Knowing what was coming next. It still hurt him to hear her say the words.

“Don't tell Jon,” she said.

Tyrion felt anger flicker within him. Anger he did well to calm.

“I won't,” Tyrion said. Evenly. “But you should. He deserves to know the truth. The boy deserves to know the truth.”

“They will,” Daenerys said. “I will tell them. And ask their forgiveness.”

 _Beg,_ Daenerys thought _._ _I'll beg if I have to._

She looked at Jon and Sam across the yard.

“But not on this day.”

“I see,” Tyrion said. Quietly.“You expect me to lie to our ally?”

Daenerys glared at Tyrion.

“ _I expect obedience from my Hand_ _,_ ” she said. _“Is that a problem for you?”_

All the softness had fled her voice. Tyrion considered it. Only for a moment. He had nowhere else to go. They both knew it.

“No, your grace,” he said. “I live to serve you.”

“ _Then serve me_ ,” Daenerys said. “ _And live._ ”

Tyion knew of a dismissal if he'd ever heard one. And a threat. He bowed low and stepped back.

 _Gods I need a drink_ , he thought.

Daenerys looked over at Sam and Jon. She saw Sam depart and Jon look over at her. He offered her a smile. One she barely returned.

 _She looked sad,_ Jon reflected. _Standing there. Alone._

Jon knew he ought to see Bran, but he couldn't help himself.

 _Bran can wait a little longer,_ his heart told him. _Daenerys needs you._

He found his legs taking him to her. His heart taking him to her.

Daenerys smiled when she saw him approach. It was a weak smile, Jon knew. One tainted by grief. And shame. He wanted to hold her. Take her in his arms and comfort her. He knew he couldn't. Not in front of everyone.

A moment passed between them. A look.

“How is he?” Daenerys asked.

“He'll be all right,” Jon ventured. “In time.”

Daenerys nodded.

“What did Tyrion want?” Jon asked.

Daenerys froze. She found herself afraid. Truly afraid. That somehow, he knew the truth. That he'd read it in her eyes. And then she found herself thinking that she'd lose him. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe.

“Was he trying to convince you that I was conspiring to steal your throne?” Jon asked. “Because I hoped that plan would remain secret. For at least a little while longer.”

It took Daenerys a moment to realise Jon was joking. That he was trying to make her smile. Lighten her mood. It only made her feel worse. She forced herself to smile.

“ _Tyrion is my Hand_ ,” Daenerys said. “He _enjoys_ talking.”

“We all enjoy what we're good at,” Jon said. Smiling at her.

Daenerys could have kissed him then. He remembered that day. Overlooking the cliffs. Her words. His words. The first time reached an understanding of some sort. He remembered _everything._

Daenerys remembered too. Up close, she'd let herself _notice Jon_. How _young_ he was. How _fetching._ And a king as well. Even as she kept him at a distance, she found herself thinking about what it would feel like to be with someone like him. And then she found herself thinking what it would be like to be with _him_. To be in _his_ arms. To be kissed by _him_.

She remembered looking after him as he walked away, wondering what he thought of her. If he thought her simply the Mad King's Daughter or a just another tyrant.

He intrigued her. His words were that of a madman, but he was unnervingly calm. His face was guarded, but his eyes were weary. He was proud to be a northerner, but their was very little vanity about him. Only a grim determindness to do right by his people. He'd impressed her.

Daenerys had noted the surprise on his face when he first looked upon her. From a distance at first. And then up close. His eyes had grown wide. His breathing turned heavy.

 _She knew,_ of course. That he wanted her from the first. It _amused_ her.

Already, she'd been thinking of ways to turn that to her advantage. Not that Daenerys would ever sell herself to win her crown. But by now, she knew enough about men to know that they were always thinking with the wrong organ. Which gave her the advantage over them.

She'd wondered if he'd be more _willing_ to bend the knee if she feigned interest in him. In a more private audience perhaps. Where she could charm him with vague promises that would never be.

What she didn't expect is that he would surprise her. By dropping his eyes. _Quickly._ _Respectfully._ He may have refused to kneel or call her his queen but he treated her with respect. It was more than most had offered her. And she admired him for it.

Grudgingly, at first. And then, more and more, unabashedly. Daenerys found herself taken by how simple Jon was. How honest and straightfoward. Utterly incapable of betrayal or deceit. It was refreshing.

Even she didn't know when exactly it was that she admitted it to herself. But suddenly, she knew. That she wanted him. When he left her side to go North, she'd felt as if a part of herself was leaving with him. It had driven her to drink. To spend sleepless nights and spend days mourning his absence in dour silence.

Now, she made a vow to herself. That she would never allow him to leave her side again.

“I don't,” she said.

Only now, did she truly understand what he'd meant that day. How much he hated it.

Jon blinked at the grief in her voice. The sorrow.

“Don't blame yourself for this,” he said. “This isn't your fault.”

“Jon,” she began. Daenerys tried to find the words. And failed. For once, the kindness in his eyes wounded her.

 _You don't know what I've done, my love,_ she thought. _You don't understand._

“It's war Daenerys,” he added. _Sadly._ “We both know it. Better than anyone. When we _high lords_ make war on each other, it's the people that die. On both sides. Friends. Brothers. Fathers. Sons. Commonfolk and noblemen alke.”

“Even kings and queens,” she added.

He nodded. She looked at him then. Imploringly.

_You wouldn't hate me, would you Jon? Because I couldn't bear that. Not from you. Not from your eyes._

Daenerys looked down. Overwhelmed. Jon's heart hurt for her. He'd only made her sad. He searched for ways to distract her and found an easy one.

“May I show you around Winterfell?” Jon asked.

Daenerys looked up at him. He was trying. _Still._ She adored him for it.

“I'd like that,” she said.

 

 


	7. The Crypts

 

They walked around the castle. The back of their hands brushing all the while. Jon's words were soft. Tender. Soothing. Daenerys took it all in. All of it. Especially the people. The way they bowed to Jon. The way they looked at him. They admired him. Loved him.

“Jon,” she said. “What's that?”

Jon followed her gaze. She was looking at the crypts.

“That,” Jon began. “Is someplace no Targaeryn has ever been.”

They exchanged a look.

“Well now I _have_ to see,” Danaery said.

Jon smiled. His plan had worked.

“Then come with me,” Jon said. “And see.”

Extending his hand to hers. She made him wait for a moment. Then she took it. Letting him lead her into the crypts.

“This feels awfully familiar,” Daenerys said. Tightening her grip on his fingers. Stroking him with her thumb.

 _Gods it felt good,_ she thought. _Just touching him again._

“Maybe I just like taking you into dark places,” Jon whispered.

“I was starting to suspect that,” she said, smiling at him through the darkness.

Daenerys looked up. A row of statues were before her. Tall and proud. Carved from the finest stone she'd ever seen.

“Who are they?” she asked. Walking in front of them. Examining them with the torch they'd lit from the wall.

“The Stark Kings,” Jon said.

He looked at Daenerys. She was exquisite. Her eyes, always luminous, were even more lovely by torchlight. And Jon was lost all over again.

 _The Kings of Winter_ , Daenerys knew. She'd read all about them in her books. _Proud. Loyal. Honourable_. Well, most of them.

“Brandon Stark. Jon Stark. Rickard Stark. Theon Stark. Brandon Stark. Edrick Stark. Brandon Stark,” Jon listed off.

Daenerys raised her brows. The Starks did like their Brandons.

Until they got to the final statue.

“Torrhen Stark,” Jon said. With finality.

He didn't have to name him. Daenerys knew this man as she knew herself: He was the last King of Winter. The King that Knelt. To her ancestor, Aegon Targaeryn.

Daenerys saw Jon staring at him. _Curiously_.

“Wonder what they'll call me in a thousand years,” Jon said, glancing at her. She saw him ponder it.

“The King that Knelt Again? The King that Lost the North? The King that Bent the Knee?”

Daenerys knew his words were said in jest. There was no sting in his voice. His eyes were dancing.

“The King that Never Smiled?” she suggested instead.

That made him surly, she saw. She found it adorable. She wanted to kiss him then. She stepped closer, eager to soothe his hurt.

“I smile,” he said. _Defensively_. “On ocassion.”

“You're right,” she said. “But the King that Smiled on Ocassion doesn't have quite the same flavour to it...”

“I'm smiling now,” Jon said.

“ _Are you_?” she asked. “I can't quite tell.”

“Come closer then,” Jon said.

His voice was suggestive, but tender. He let that hang in the air. When she stepped closer to him she saw he was indeed smiling. His eyes were shining at her. With adoration.

“I've missed you,” he said. Touching her cheek.

She knew what he meant. It had been a long march to Winterfell from White Harbour. And while they were at each other's side, they had never really had a chance to be alone. Not truly.

“I've missed you too,” she said. Turning her face into his palm.

For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

“Come on,” Jon said. “He's waiting for us.”

“He?” Daenerys asked. Intrigued.

Jon said nothing. He simply led her deeper into the heart of the crypts.

They stopped in front of a large statue.

 _It was new_ , she noted. _There was hardly any dust on it._

“Daenerys,” Jon began. “This is my father. Lord Eddard Stark.”

Daenerys looked up at the statue, searching for a glimpse of Jon in those foreign, unfamiliar features.

“Father,” Jon began. “This is Daenerys Targaeryn.”

Jon took a deep breath.

“ _She's my queen,”_ he added.

He'd said those words a thousand times. She'd always heard the possessiveness in his voice when he said it. It never failed to bring her pleasure. She knew he was declaring more than just his loyalty when he said it. She knew what he meant.

 _But this felt different._ And the way he was looking at her was _different_. As if to say: _I'm yours. And you're mine. For the rest of my days. Do you understand?_

Daenerys found herself thrilled. Frightened. Overcome. Her heart was racing. She searched for a way to change the subject.

“He's not what I imagined,” Daenerys said. Stumbling over her words.

Jon blinked. The spell broke. The moment faded.

“And what did you imagine?” Jon asked. Curious.

Daenerys looked up at the statue.

 _So this was Eddard Stark_ , she thought.

The usurper's dog, Viserys had named him. As a child, eager to please her brother, Daenerys had adopted that name for him. Much to his delight. Those words shamed her now. The memories shamed her.

“Ten feet tall,” Daenerys said. “With fire breathing out of his eyes. A wolf's eyes. Razor sharp teeth.”

Jon chuckled.

“Felt that way sometimes,” he said. “Even when I was a young man. He was always... _father_.”

“I hated him,” Daenerys found herself saying. “For many years...”

Jon looked at her. His eyes remained soft, Daenerys saw. Understanding.

“You had cause,” Jon said. “They took everything from you. Your home. Your family. Your kingdom.”

“I thought I did,” Daenerys said. “I thought I knew. And then Varys told me...”

“What did the Spider tell you?” Jon asked.

“How angry your father was,” Daenerys said. Her voice was soft. But steely.

“When he heard what the Lannisters did to Rhaegar's wife. To his children. _His wroth_. How he demanded Tywin Lannister's head. Demanded justice for Rhaegar's children.”

“They were his enemy and he demanded justice for them,” Daenerys said. Shaking her head. Her eyes were glassy, Jon saw. As if she couldn't believe what she was saying.

“When Robert sent assassins after me after my wedding with Drogo your father wanted no part in it. He turned his back on his king. He gave up his position. He wanted to go home.”

 _Jon didn't know this_ , Daenerys realised. His expression changed. He looked proud.

“That sounds like him,” Jon said, looking back at the statue. “He was the best man I knew. The most honourable.”

Daenerys saw a change in Jon. His face darkened.

“And the Lannisters took his head for it,” Jon said.

She saw his fingers clench. Hard. His body tightened up. His voice gruff with anger.

“Cersei took his head. And I did... _nothing_. I've done... _nothing._ ”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Daenerys said. Softly. Eager to soothe his hurt. Her voice hardened.

“But Cersei will pay for what she did. To him. For what the Lannisters did to Rhaegar's wife and children. We will have our justice in the end. I swear it.”

Silence fell between them as they felt the heavy weight of the past on their shoulders.

“He'd be proud of you,” Daenerys added. Softly.

“I wish you could have met him,” Jon said. “As he was. He would have liked you.”

“Thought you were far too beautiful for the likes of me,” he added.

She gave Jon a look. As if to say: _Don't flatter me. It doesn't suit you._

But she couldn't help the pleasure his words brought her.

Then something caught her eye.

“Jon,” she asked. Raising the torch. “Who is that?”

Jon let her step past him. Then he followed her.

“Lyanna,” Jon said. Softly. “My aunt.”

 _Rhaegar's northern woman_ , Daenerys knew. She stared at the statue. _Hungrily._ Daenerys knew so little of her brother. To look upon the face of a woman he loved was a crumb, she knew. But she had had only stories of Rhaegar. This was something she could see. Something she could touch. A part of him.

“She was beautiful,” Daenerys said, examining her closely.

“Aye,” Jon said. “And fierce. They called her the Wolf Maid.”

“I can believe that,” Daenerys smiled. She looked upon it. Fondly.

Something seemed to occur to her. She looked around.

“I thought only Stark men were buried here,” she added.

“Father insisted,” Jon said. “He loved her so much. He wanted her close. He'd come here sometimes. Just to sit with her. For hours.”

“What do you know of her?” Daenerys asked. Her voice was as soft as silk.

“Not much,” Jon admitted. The answer sank Daenerys' spirits, if only a little.

“Father rarely spoke of her. It made him sad, I think.”

Jon waited a beat. Daenerys him him exhale.

“I asked about her. Once,” Jon confessed.

“The look on his face. He looked so sad. So broken. I never wanted to see him look that way again. So I never asked.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

“I know what they say,” Daenerys said. “ _About my brother_. _What he did.”_

Her tone was enough to give it away. Jon knew they were treading unsteady ground. The last thing he wanted was to argue with her about their families and their tangled histories.

 _None of that mattered anymore,_ he reminded himself. _We have each other now. And the real war is coming._

“I heard stories,” Jon said. Carefully. “As a child.”

“What did you hear?” Daenerys asked. For once, her tone was clipped.

 _What do you believe,_ she meant. He knew.

“I _heard_ Rhaegar kidnapped her. Took her by force,” Jon said. He saw Daenerys make to protest her brother's honour.

“And then there were the rumours. That she _bewitched_ him. Stole his heart. _That they were in love._ That they ran off together,” Jon added.

 _Those words softened her,_ he saw. Made her smile.

“ _They loved each other_ ,” Daenerys said. Softly. Gazing at the statue of Lyanna Stark. “I believe that. With all my heart I believe it.”

 _My brother was a good man,_ Daenerys thought _. I know it in my heart._

Jon didn't know what to say.

“What do you know of Rhaegar?” he asked.

There were no suspicions in his words, Daenerys knew. No hostility or accusation. He was merely curious.

“Only what I heard,” Daenerys admitted. “From Viserys first. Who admittedly, wasn't the most reliable source of information.”

The expression on Jon's face seemed to concur. His half-smile told her he remembered saying those words to her not so long ago in the Dragon Pit.

“But then Ser Barristan told me...”

Jon's eyes widened. She could see the surprise in them. Even in the darkness.

“Barristan the Bold?” he asked. Unable to stop himself from interrupting her.

“He served me for a long time,” Daenerys said. Smiling at the memories. “In Mereen. He died in my service. You knew him?”

“Only by reputation,” Jon said. His voice filled with wonder. “Every boy in the seven kingdoms knew Ser Barristan. Father said he was the greatest knight he ever saw. Certainly the most honourable.”

“He was,” Daenerys said. “A man of great honour. And a loyal friend. I miss him everyday.”

Jon was eager to hear more, Daenerys saw. Like a child with a new toy. She saw him hold himself back. Out of respect. Daenerys took a breath. Remembering Barristan's words.

“He told me that Rhaegar was kind. And gentle. He loved his people. And they loved him. He was a great warrior, but he hated fighting. And...

“And?” Jon asked.

Daenerys found herself eager to share this with Jon. The words came quicker now.

“He was sad sometimes,” Daenerys said. “ _Melancholy_. But when he smiled, he was...”

Daenerys blinked. She looked at Jon then. As if she were seeing him anew. For the first time. _Beautiful,_ she wanted to say. And yet the words never came.

“He...” Daenerys began.

She shook her head. The thought that struck her next was absurd. Truly. But she found herself giving voice to it despite herself.

“He sounded _like you._ ”

They stared at each other. Not knowing what to say. For once, the smile they exchanged was awkward. Unfamiliar.

“A common mix up I'm sure,” Jon said. Lightly. “I've oft been mistaken for Rhaegar Targaeryn.”

“At least that's what I told the tavern wenches,” Jon added.

“ _Did it work_?” Daenerys asked, fixing him with a stare.

She tried, but she couldn't keep the jealousy from her tone. Or her eyes.

“ _Not once_ ,” Jon sighed. “ _Sadly_.”

That made her smile. Her eyes gleamed.

“ _That is sad_ ,” Daenerys said. _“Truly.”_

“Sad enough to fetch me a kiss?” Jon wondered. _Hopefully._

“ _Not that sad_ ,” Daenerys said. Dryly.

They exhanged a smile.

“What else did Ser Barristan tell you?” Jon asked. After a moment had passed.

“That Rhaegar would sing for his people,” Daenerys added. “And dance.”

“Well, that settles it,” Jon said. “I've never even sung a note.”

“And as for dancing... I'd sooner face your Dothraki horde in open battle.”

“I'd _like_ to see you dance,” Daenerys said. Her eyes twinkled.

“ _No_ ,” Jon said. Vehemently. “You would not. I assure you.”

“I think you'd be rather good at it,” Daenerys said.

She gave him an appraising look.

“Won't you dance for your queen, Jon?”

Her eyes were filled with laughter now. Her voice was delighted. Jon was glad.

“ _Never_ ,” Jon vowed.

“You _swore to die_ for me,” Daenerys reminded him. Touching his chest. Lightly. “Or have you forgotten?”

“ _Die,”_ Jon said. “ _Not dance_. The vows were very specific.”

“Then I name you a liar, a craven and an oathbreaker,” Daenerys chided. “ _For shame._ ”

“Call me what you will,” Jon said. He took her in his arms then. _Boldly._ “You will never see me dance.”

“I already have,” Daenerys said. _Smugly._ Placing her arms around his neck.

“Have you?” Jon asked.

“ _Mmmmm,_ ” she said. Looking at him with naked desire now.

“Not all men were meant to Dance with Dragons, _Jon_.”

 _But you were,_ her eyes told him. _Now kiss me._

He smiled. And he kissed her.

They were walking back from the crypts now. Taking their time.

“So what happens after?” Jon asked. “After you've won your crown?”

“I rule,” Daenerys said. “Wisely. Peacefully.”

They shared a smile. _It was a sweet dream, they knew._

“Tyrion will insist I find a king,” Daenerys added.

“Aye,” Jon said. “He probably will.”

“Any suggestions?” Daenerys asked. _Innocently._ Watching Jon from the corner of her eye.

“How about Tyrion?” Jon asked. His face remained serious but his voice sounded amused.

“That won't serve,” Daenerys said. “He likes talking too much. I'd never get a word in edgewise. Probably end up feeding him to my dragons.”

“You're probably right,” Jon said.

“Jamie Lannister was _rather handsome_ ,” Daenerys said.

She smiled as she stared at Jon, attempting to guage his reaction.

“ _Was he_?” Jon said. “Seemed rather _old_ to me _._ ”

She enjoyed the jealousy on his face. In his voice. Enjoyed the way his chest tightened up and nose flared.

“It was hard to miss,” Daenerys said. “But....things might get a little awkward. Considering...”

They shared a look. No more needed to be said.

“So, not Jamie then,” Daenerys said. “Anyone else?”

“How about Ser Jorah?” Jon suggested.

Daenerys made a face.

“I love him like I would a father,” she said. Wrinkling her nose.

 _Not sure the feeling is mutual,_ Jon thought. He knew nothing, but even he enough to keep from giving voice to that particular thought.

“Grey Worm?” Jon suggested.

“Missandei wouldn't like that,” Daenerys said.

“She wouldn't,” Jon said. “But she'd understand. In time. For the good of the realm and all that.”

Daenerys shook her head.

“Anyone else?”

“How about Varys?” Jon asked. He couldn't help but smile.

“Is it a coincidence that the last two matches you've suggested have no cock?” Daenerys asked.

“ _Purely_ ,” Jon said. Looking wounded now. “I only have your best interests at heart _my queen_.”

“Do you?” Daenerys asked. She slanted her head, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “I have to confess, I do find myself wondering about your motives sometimes.”

“Now that hurts my feelings,” Jon said. “My motives are pure as my devotion to you.”

“Always?” Daenerys asked.

“Not always,” Jon admitted. “Sometimes my motives are rather... _less pure_.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Daenerys said. Impishly.

They walked on.

“I've heard about someone,” Daenerys said. Frowning.

“The King in The....South? East? Or was it West? I can never remember...”

“Oh,” Jon said. “ _Him._ Well...”

“Do you know him?” Daenerys asked. As if she were curious.

“I've heard stories,” Jon said. He breathed in deep. “They say he's the greatest swordsman who ever lived. A handsome devil. They say maidens swoon and faint at the very sight of him.”

Daenerys gave him a look which said: P _lease. You're embarassing yourself._

“They say he shits sunshine and moonbeams fall out of his arse,” Jon added.

Daenerys was taken aback. And then she found herself laughing. _Heartily._

Jon stared at her. Trying not to grin.

“Now _that hurts_ my feelings,” he said.

“Sorry,” she said. But she couldn't help one last giggle.

They walked in comfortable silence for a little while.

“And what about you?” she asked. “After the war.”

“Put down my sword and never pick it up again,” Jon said. “Gods be willing.”

She smiled softly at that.

“I suppose you'll return to Winterfell,” she ventured, all the while hoping he'd tell her otherwise. “And rule.”

“No,” Jon said. “I can never rule Winterfell.”

She looked confused. Forgetting their game for a moment.

“Your people chose you to lead them,” she said.

“Aye,” Jon said. “But I'm not a Stark. Winterfell can only be ruled by a Stark. Sansa. And her children after her.”

An idea seemed to strike Daenerys.

“After I've won the throne,” she began. Haltingly. “I could give you your name. _His_ name.”

He shook his head. As if to say: _You don't understand the North._

“My people,” Jon began. His smile was knowing. “Would never accept it. Would never accept me as a Stark.”

“Your people _adore_ you,” Daenerys said. “I've seen it. You're Ned Stark's son.”

“His blood runs through my veins,” Jon agreed. “But I don't have his name. I'll never be a Stark to the people of the North. Not truly.”

Daenerys looked perplexed.

“You northerners,” Daenerys sighed. “You're a complicated people.”

“No less than you southerners,” Jon said.

They walked in silence for a bit longer.

“And after you've put down your sword?” Daenerys asked.

“I could farm,” Jon said. “Hunt. Fish. Live off the land.”

“I'd like to see that,” Daenerys said.

 _Another sweet dream,_ they thought. _One unlikely to ever come true._

“Find myself a good woman,” Jon said. He found himself staring at Daenerys now. _Longingly_.“Have children.”

Daenerys dropped her head, entirely missing the look he was giving her.

 _Children,_ she thought. _He wants children. Something I can't..._

“ _I see_ ,” she said. She looked pained.

Jon grimaced. He searched for the right words and failed. So he said the first thing that sprung into his head.

“I've found the right woman,” Jon said. Hastily. “Is what _I meant_ to say.”

She looked up at him. _Sharply._

“Have you?”

 _Oh seven hells,_ Jon thought.

He knew he was trapped. There was still hurt in her beautiful eyes. Doubt. He couldn't bring himself to add to it.

“Aye,” Jon said. “I have. Found _her._ ”

 _You,_ he meant.

The doubt faded in her eyes. Jon saw hope in Daenerys' beautiful eyes. And found himself needing to fan those flames.

“You said...” Daenerys began.

 _Children,_ she wanted to say. Jon knew she couldn't bring herself to say it.

 _Say it,_ Jon told himself. _Just tell her and be done with it._

“Aye,” Jon said. “With _her_.”

Daenerys blinked.

“What if _she_ can't...” Daenerys began. She searched for the words and failed.

“ _She can,_ ” Jon said. “ _She will_. _I believe it. With all my heart_.”

Jon saw her eyes light up. Just a little. At her words, back at her again.

“ _Thing is_ ,” Jon added. “I'm not sure if she'll have me.”

Daenerys exhaled. His words would have her weep.

“I can't _imagine_ a woman that wouldn't have you,” she said. _Slowly._ Shaking her head.

“Not even a queen?” he asked. Carefully.

“ _Especially_ a queen,” she said. “After all, you are a king.”

They exchanged smiles.

“So you think she'd have me then?” Jon asked. Stepping closer. _Hopefully._

“I don't know,” Daenerys said. When she saw his face fall, she added: “Tell me about _her”_

“She's...” Jon began.

“ _Beautiful_?” Daenerys asked. Teasingly. As if the word _utterly bored_ her.

Jon waited a beat. For the right word to strike him.

“ _Exquisite_ ,” he said.

He saw her expression soften. Her eyes were hungry.

“What else?” she asked.

“She's _kind_. And _sweet_. And _gentle_. She...”

Daenerys saw him smile. To himself. Just a little.

“She has a _good heart_ ,” Jon said.

The words were genuine, she knew. But they seemed to bring him some secret joy. There was something behind his smile. Something danced in his eyes.

Daenerys vowed to ask him about it. _Later._

“What else?” Daenerys asked, stepping forward. Her expression was greedy now.

“She's _fierce_. And _strong_. And _loyal_.”

“She sounds like quite a woman,” Daenerys said. She felt overcome again. Seeing herself through Jon's eyes could be startling.

“She is,” Jon said. “I've never met anyone like her. Sometimes I look at her and...”

“And?” Daenerys asked. Softly.

“And I can't believe she's real,” Jon said.

Daenerys didn't know when they got quite so close. How they were breathing so _heavily._

“So you think she'd have me then?” Jon asked again. His rough voice was a whisper.

“ _Perhaps._..” Daenerys said. Her voice was soft as well. She swallowed.

“Perhaps?” Jon asked.

Daenerys saw disappointment in Jon's eyes now. She moved to soothe him. Quickly.

“Perhaps you should ask _her_.”

 _Ask me,_ her eyes told him.

“ _I will_ ,” Jon said.

“ _When_?” Daenerys asked.

She tried to keep the eagerness from her voice. And failed. Jon sighed.

“ _Soon,_ ” Jon said.

 _After all this_ , he meant. She knew.

Their eyes met and held. Exchanging promises. That there would be no other. That he'd ask her. And that she'd wait.

Jon saw Daenerys' expression change. As if something had occurred to her.

“ _Jon_ ,” she said. Moving even closer. Her voice fell to an even softer whisper.

“ _Yes?”_

“When you ask _her,”_ Daenerys said. Looking up at him. They were close enough for their breaths to mingle now. “ _Don't forget. Promise me you won't forget.”_

She dropped her eyes then. He cupped her chin. Raised it gently. Looked longingly upon that perfect face.

“ _Forget what my queen?_ ” Jon asked. _Tenderly._

 _I'll remember_ , his eyes vowed. _Tell me what it is. And I'll remember. I swear it._

Jon saw Daenerys' expression change. She ws herself again, Jon saw. _Strong. Confident. Regal._

Daenerys raised her chin. _Defiantly._ Her eyes alone would been enough to unmake most men. They nearly had Jon on the floor.

“ _To bend the knee,”_ Daenerys said. _Haughtily._

Jon was struck by thunder. He wanted to move. To grab her. Press her to him and hold her. Kiss her and never let go. But before he could even think, she'd slipped out of reach. Looking more pleased with herself than he'd ever seen.

Daenerys gave Jon a look: _I know you want me, Ser. You shall not have me again. Not until you bend the knee. Properly._

Then she turned on her heels and walked away from him. Never looking back. Leaving him staring after her.

Daenerys slowed her steps. Letting him catch up. She could feel his gaze on her. Heated. When he attempted to catch her eye, she looked away. Smiling from the corner of her mouth.

She heard him exhale. With frustration. She could feel it. His desire. Pouring out of him. Coming at her in waves. It warmed her body. Made it hum.

She glanced at him. He was staring at her intently. Searching for an opening. She wasn't ready to parley with him. Not yet. No, she was enjoying herself far too much. She decided to settle on a different brand of torture.

“I just remembered something,” Daenerys said.

“What?” Jon asked. His voice was hopeful. Soft, she knew.

She refused to meet his eyes. Knowing that if she did, her resistance would break. Eventually.

“That I'm not speaking to you,” she said.

Jon blinked.

“Why?” he asked. Quizzically.

Daenerys said nothing. She looked away from him. At this and that.

“ _Daenerys,_ ” he said.

She withheld a smile. He rarely called her by her name. Even when they were alone. She was always _his queen_. Which meant she had him good and riled up.

“You know why,” Daenerys said.

“I don't,” Jon said.

When she shook her head dismissively, she found him in front of her. Standing in her way. She attempted to side-step him, but he moved in front of her. And again. Forcing her to meet his eyes. Her gaze softened, as he knew it would. Just a little.

“ _Why_?” he asked.

She folded her arms over her chest. Drawing his attention to her chest.

Jon's eyes flickered over Daenerys'good heart. And he smiled to himself.

“What was that earlier?” she demanded. Summoning her anger. As best she could.

“ _What_?” Jon asked.

“That _little game_ you played,” she said. “At the gate.”

She saw him frown.

“What game?” he asked.

“You _know_ what game,” she said. Her tone turned accusatory.

“ _Daenerys_ ,” he said. “ _What game_?”

She stared at him then. Wondering. If he was truly as innocent as he looked.

 _Gods,_ she sighed to herself. _But he was beautiful. How could she ever stay angry at him?_

Then she saw something flash in his eyes. He looked away from her.

“ _Jon,_ ” she said. Cocking her head

He said nothing.

“Look at me,” Daenerys said.

It was a command. She knew his heart left him no choice but to obey. He met her eyes. Which held and sparred.

Their was something in his eyes, she knew. Not false. His eyes could never be false. Especially not to her. But there was a look. As if he was a little boy who'd been caught with a jar of honey.

When she smiled at him, he couldn't stop himself from returning it. Suddenly, he was grinning. And then, much to her amazement, he was laughing. Daenerys found herself wanting to smack him.

“You're _laughing at me_ ,” she said. Part of her was outraged, even as another part of her was grealy amused.

“I am not,” he manged to sputter. His shoulders were shaking.

“You are!” she said.

She couldn't stop herself from hitting him then. _Gently._ Which only made him laugh harder.

“Of all the people I've met in the world,” she said, shaking her head. “You must be the _worst liar_ I've ever seen!”

Finally, he managed to contain himself. He took in a deep, cleansing breath.

“Some people might take that as a compliment,” Jon said.

Daenerys said nothing. Just stared daggers through him.

“Sorry,” he said. His eyes begged forgiveness.

“Don't speak to me,” she said, pushing him out of the way. _Firmly._

Jon began stepping after her. Daenerys smiled to herself. Quickly. Then forced a stern look on her face.

“I felt _really bad_ afterwards,” Jon admitted. “Does that help?”

 _It did,_ Daenerys thought. _How much surprised even her._

“No,” she said. Firmly.

“Not even a little?” he asked.

“Not even a little,” she said. Stubbornly.

He sighed.

“How can someone so beautiful be so cruel?” he wondered.

“ _Please,_ ” she said. Turning her face away to hide the pleasure his words brought her.

Suddenly, he'd was in front of her. Blocking her way.

His eyes were puppy dog-like now. Begging for forgiveness. He'd moved closer to her.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“I don't care,” she said. Churlishly.

“Forgive me,” he said.

“ _Never,_ ” she said. Childishly.

That gave it away. He knew it was a game and nothing more. It made him smile.

“Please?” he asked.

“I. Will. Not,” she said. Sternly.

“ _Daenerys_ ,” he said.

“Do not speak my name, Ser,” she warned.

Daenerys saw Jon's expression change. He looked at her possessively. As if she was his. To hold. To have. Whenever he so pleased. As if she were _his queen._ She found herself heating up under his gaze.

 _He is a king,_ she thought.

“ _You will_ forgive me,” Jon said. Firmly.

Daenerys gave him an incredulous look.

“ _Will I_?” she asked.

“ _You will_ ,” he said.

She paused.

“Are you _threatening_ me?” Daenerys asked. Her lips tugged at a smile. She couldn't help herself.

“Call it what you will,” Jon said. He stepped forward. Making her step back. “But _you will_ forgive me.”

He let the playful threat hang in the air. Between them.

“Go on,” she said. “ _I'd like_ to hear this.”

He stepped forward. She stepped back, finding herself cornered. Her back felt stone against it. Cool. Hard. Unyielding. Just like the man in front of her. This felt familiar as well. Much like the dream she'd had, months ago. At Dragonstone.

“If you don't forgive me...” he began.

He trailled off.

 _Go on_ , her eyes dared him.

“I'll do what I've been wanting to do all day,” he said.

“Which is?” she asked. _Intrigued._

“Take you into my arms. And kiss you. _In front of everyone_.”

Daenerys looked around. They were in the courtyard again. Surrounded by a flurry of activity. And a thousand conversations. Their friends and loved ones scattered about.

“You wouldn't dare,” she said. Her voice was hushed.

“And who'd stop me?” he asked.

“I would,” she said. Firmly. That made him chuckle.

“You wouldn't,” he said.

She opened her mouth to argue, but he silenced her with a look. He had her, she knew. She'd say the right words, but she wouldn't stop him. Not if it came to it. She wanted it as much as he did.

“My dragons...”

“Couldn't stop me,” he said. “Your Dothraki couldn't stop me. Your Unsullied couldn't stop me.”

“Is that so?” she asked. Amused now.

“It is,” he said.

“Grey Worm,” she began.

“Would fall.”

“And Ser Jorah?” she enquired.

“Him as well,” Jon said.

“Tsk tsk,” she said. Flirtatiously now. “Poor Ser Jorah. He deserved better.”

That made him smile. Daenerys longed to see him smile again.

“Tyrion?” she asked. Her eyes twinkled.

“ _Him,_ I'd like to see try,” he said. Cheekily.

“Now, who's being cruel?” she asked, chiding him with a look, even as her eyes lit up.

They exchanged a smile.

“ _Forgive me_ ,” he said. _Again_. Softer, this time. His eyes were tender.

“ _No_ ,” she said. Her voice was soft this time.

 _Yes,_ she meant. _I forgive you._

He knew. It wasn't enough. He wanted to hear her say the words. Needed it. He took a step closer. It startled her.

 _He was close_ , she realised. _Far, far too close. She could feel the eyes on them. A thousand eyes. Staring at them._

“ _Jon_ ,” she said. She intended it to be stern, but she sounded breathless to her own ears. _Willing. Eager._

“ _Daenerys_ ,” he said. _Smiling._

“ _Everyone is watching_ ,” Daenerys said. Her voice dropped to a whisper now.

“They should look away then,” Jon said. “I'm with _my queen._ ”

His words made her want to embrace him. Kiss him. But she couldn't. Not here. Not in front of everyone. Not yet. She cocked her head at him. Pleading with him. To do what, even she didn't know. He stepped even closer.

And then, in a casual gesture, he placed his hand on the wall above her shoulder. Daenerys felt her face flush when Jon leaned in. She swallowed. Hard. She could hear her heart in her ears. Thumping.

And then Jon plucked a stray flower that was growing between the bricks above her head. And offered it to her.

Daenerys took it from him. It was a winter rose. She'd never seen one before. It was the most beautiful shade of blue she'd ever seen. _Rare in these parts,_ she knew.

Nothing had ever smelt so sweet. In return, she granted him a smile. But she couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment.

 _Part of her was longing for it_ , she realised. _For him to kiss her. In front of everyone. Even better, to take her away. From this madness. From this death._

Jon saw something catch Daenerys' eye. She was staring over his shoulder. At Sansa and Arya. Who were having an animated conversation. He saw Sansa glance over at them. Her look was disapproving.

“I don't think she likes me,” Daenerys said.

Jon raised his eyebrows. Questioningly.

“ _Your sister,”_ Daenerys said. “The _elder_ one.”

Her tone was sullen. The look in her eyes was that of a little girl. _Jealous. Possessive._

“Her name is Sansa, _my love_ ,” Jon said. Soothingly. Smiling at her.

Daenerys liked that. He'd called her _his love_. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flower he'd plucked for her. And smiled.

“ _Her name is Sansa,_ ” Daenerys intoned, putting on a faux northern accent. “ _Saansaaaa._..”

Jon chuckled.

“She doesn't know you,” Jon said. Soothingly. “Give it time. I didn't exactly fall at your feet the first time we met either.”

“A fact I haven't forgotten,” Daenerys said. Glaring at Jon.

“Wouldn't be here if I had, would we?” Jon said. “Didn't think that would make much of an impression.”

“So you were trying to _impress me_ ,” Daenerys said. Impishly. Cocking her head to one side and eyeing him. “And I thought you were being all _noble and kingly._ ”

“I was being _noble and kingly_ ,” Jon protested.

He was sulking now, Daenerys saw. Like a little boy who'd lost his favourite toy. He was adorable. She gave him a skeptical look.

“And trying to impress you,” he admitted. Grudgingly.

Which made them both smile.

Suddenly, they found themselves interrupted. By an elderly man and a young woman.

“Your grace,” the man said. Bowing.

Jon frowned. He didn't recognise the man.

“Forgive me, Ser,” Jon said.

“Lord Harwyne, your grace,” he said. Bowing low.

Jon had no idea who this man was. One of the lesser lords, he presumed.

“Of course,” Jon said. “Lord Harwyne. I hope you've had a pleasant stay at Winterfell.”

“Thank you, your grace,” he said. “May I introduce my daughter Moira.”

Jon's eyes fell to the young woman. A pretty enough thing. Slender. With raven dark hair.

“Your grace,” she said. Bowing low. Beaming at him. “Welcome home. The North has missed you.”

“My lady,” Jon said. “I thank you for the kind words.”

Daenerys resisted the urge to glare at this stranger. She simply looked away. Feigning disinterest. And then an awkward silence descended upon them. Moira and her father exchanged a look.

“If you'll excuse us my lord,” Jon said. “We can speak on the morrow. When all the lords are properly assembled.”

“Of course your grace,” the lord said. Beating a hasty retreat with his daughter in tow. Who gave Jon a come hither look as she left.

“Is that what it's like?” Daenerys asked.

“Being king,” she clarified a moment later at the puzzled look on Jon's face. “Walking around and having old men throw their pretty young daughters at you?”

“I wish,” Jon muttered. Rolling his eyes.

“ _Do you_?” Daenerys asked. Glaring at him again.

Jon beat a hasty retreat.

“That's not what I meant,” Jon said.

“ _Isn't it_?” Daenerys asked. Her eyes flashing at him.

Gods, she was lovely when she was angry, Jon thought.

“ _You know it isn't,_ ” Jon said. Pleadingly.

Daenerys looked away from him. Heard him exhale in frustration.

“ _I know_ ,” she said. Amused by the grimace on his face.

“Do you enjoy it?” Jon asked. “ _Toying_ with me? _Torturing_ me?”

“Being queen has many privileges,” Daenerys said.

Jon shook his head. He was doomed. Utterly doomed. Daenerys decided to take pity on him.

“Do you enjoy it, _my Lord_?” Daenerys asked. Playfully.

So she wasn't really angry, Jon thought. It was a game. Jon decided to partake.

“Forgive me, _my queen_ ,” Jon said. “I'm just a poor, simple northerner. _But I am still a king_.”

Jon saw the change come over her. He saw it in her eyes. The pleasure the words brought him.

“ _Are you_?” Daenerys asked. Dismissively. “I'll have to remember that.”

“See that you do,” Jon said. “After all, a king has his _privileges_ as well.”

Jon let his eyes run up and down her body. Suggestively. When their eyes met, Jon found Daenerys staring at him.

“Are you calling me _a privilege_?” she asked.

Daenerys' voice was soft, but dangerous. Eyes warning him to speak carefully. Half of her was serious. The other half was playful. She was amused and more than a little pissed off. She was _lovely,_ he thought.

“I'm calling you _my queen,_ ” Jon said.

Daanaerys felt overcome. She looked away.

“ _Look at me,_ ” Jon said.

His voice was rough. Dangerous. _It was a command,_ Daenerys knew. Part of her rebelled against it. Another part of her was thrilled. Daenerys looked at him.

“You're _my queen,_ ” Jon said. Again. “Do you understand?”

Jon fixed her with a stare. Daenerys said nothing. Did nothing.

“ _Daenerys,_ ” Jon said. Possessively.

Daenerys was trapped. She nodded her assent. Shyly. And then they were both smiling at each other. Like idiots.

Suddenly, Daenerys saw a guilty look cross Jon's face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I have to go see Bran,” he said.

Jon winced. His brother was waiting for him. He'd forgotten.

She gave him an appraising look.

“What?” he asked.

“You've barely been home an hour and you're already leaving me,” she said. Slyly.

He smiled. His eyes told her he would never leave her. She knew.

“I'm going to see my brother,” he said. Softly.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “That or some _tavern wench_.”

“ _Daenerys_ ,” Jon said.

“Fine. Go. See if I care,” Daenerys said. Dismissively.

“You do care,” Jon said.

“I don't.”

“You do.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

They lapsed into silence. They were arguing like children now. They exchanged naughty glances. She decided to end their little quarrel. Make peace.

“I'd like to meet Bran,” Daenerys said. Softly.

“You will,” Jon promised. “But he asked me to come alone.”

It brought a worried look to her face.

“Do you think....” Daenerys began.

 _The Night King,_ she wanted to say. _The army of the dead?_

“I don't know,” Jon said.

They paused a moment.

“You should rest,” Jon said. “Gather your strength.”

 _She was tired,_ Daenerys realised. Unusually so. And her stomach felt a little odd. She wanted to protest, but only nodded.

“You'll need it when I return,” Jon added. Cheekily.

Daenerys' eyes widened at the look he was giving her.

“Sansa,” Jon called. Before his queen could get a word in.

“Yes, your grace?” Sansa said.

Sansa approached them. Neither of them had so much even looked at her, she observed. They were eyeing each other. Still.

“If you wouldn't mind showing her grace to _her quarters_ ,” Jon said.

 _My quarters, he meant._ Daenerys knew.

So did Sansa. The look on her face gave it away. Daenerys didn't much care. Jon didn't seem to notice.

“Of course, your grace,” Sansa said. Politely.

She turned to Daenerys.

“Your grace. When you're ready?”

Daenerys chose to ignore Sansa. Until Jon gave her a look that said: _Be kind to her my love. Please._

“Thank you, my lady,” Daenerys said. It surprised Sansa. “You have a beautiful home.”

Unsure what to do, Sansa nodded. And stepped back.

 _Thank you,_ Jon's eyes told Daenerys.

“Winterfell is yours, _my queen,_ ” Jon said.

Bowing his head. Ever so slightly.

Daenerys wasn't ready for him to leave. Not again. Not yet. They'd barely left each other's side since _that night_. And yet she knew she couldn't command him to stay. After all, his brother was waiting for him. But she wanted him to linger. If only a moment longer.

“ _Only Winterfell_?” Daenerys asked. “I thought the _entire North_ was mine.

Sansa looked discomfited with that statement, but Jon only smiled at Daenerys' teasing lilt.

“It is,” he affirmed.

“All of it?” she wondered.

“Every inch,” he said. Slowly.

“And its king?” Daenerys asked. The words came quickly. Before she could stop herself.

“ _Him_ , most of all,” Jon said. _Softly._

The look in his eyes could have had her die just then, Daenerys thought. He turned to go.

“ _Jon_ ,” she whispered. He looked at her.

 _Return to me quickly,_ Daenerys' eyes told him. _Please._

Jon nodded.

 _I will_ , he vowed. Silently.

Then he bowed and walked away.

Leaving her staring after him. _Longingly._

Earlier...

“What do you think of _her_?” Sansa asked.

Watching Jon and Daenerys walk back into the courtyard together. Arya followed them with watchful eyes.

“Jon seems to like _her_ ,” Arya grinned.

She saw the Dragon Queen lean up against the wall. And Jon step in close.

“Do you think they...” Sansa began, then paused.

“ _Oh yes_ ,” Arya said. _Quickly._

“ _Really_?” Sansa asked. “ _Her?_ ”

“ _He has eyes_ , doesn't he?” Arya said. She found herself irritated with her sister. More than usual.

“I suppose,” Sansa said. Shrugging.

“What?” Arya said.

“The singers say she's the most beautiful woman in the world,” Sansa said. “I mean she is _pretty._ I grant you that. _But the most beautiful woman in the world_? _Hardly._ ”

Arya rolled her eyes.

“Now, Margaery Tyrell. _There was a rare beauty..._ ” Sansa said. Drifting off.

“What are you on about?” Arya wondered.

“I'm just wondering,” Sansa said. “ _Why Jon bent the knee_. What she could have possibly _said_ to convince him. _Or what she promised him in return._ ”

“That's Littlefinger talking,” Arya said. Giving her sister a disapproving look.

“He may have been a monster,” Sansa said. “That doesn't mean he was wrong.”

“Jon is our brother,” Arya said. “ _And our king._ ”

“I haven't forgotten,” Sansa said. “Besides, he was my brother long before he was yours.”

Sansa sighed.

“It's just...he _gave away_ his kingdom. And for what? A pretty face? That's exactly what Robb did. Remember?”

“Jon is not Robb,” Arya said. Fiercely. “I have faith in my brother. My king. As should you.”

“I have faith,” Sansa protested. “I just don't understand why....”

“They say she has dragons,” Arya said. Angrily now. “Three _very large_ dragons. What would you have had Jon do? _Fight them?_ What would you have the North do?”

When Sansa didn't answer, Arya felt her ire rise. She rounded on her sister.

“Do _you know_ what happened when the Aegon The Conquerer _unleashed_ his dragons in Westeros? How many people _burned_? How many _died_?” Arya asked. Furiously. Sansa seemed to wilt under Arya's rage.

“ _I know_ ,” Sansa admitted. Sheepishly. “But the Northern lords won't be happy tomorrow when they learn Jon has bent the knee.”

Arya's eyes hardened. Sansa saw his sister's hands flit to the dagger she wore at her waist. Stroke it. Lovingly.

“If I see any of these _Northern lords_ so much as looking at Jon the wrong way,” Arya said. Her eyes grew deadly. Vacant. “I'll _kill_ them. I'll kill _all_ of them.”

“ _Arya_ ,” Sansa said. Shaking her head. “You can't!”

“ _Anyone_ who gets in Jon's way is my enemy,” Arya said. Quietly. Menacingly. “ _Anyone._ ”

An uncomfortable moment passed between the sisters. Arya defused the moment with a little smile.

“And yes,” Arya said. “I _like_ her.”

And then Jon called for Sansa. Arya watched her sister walk towards Jon. Her hand still on the dagger.

Sansa found herself watching the Dragon Queen closely. Her face gave nothing away. Daenerys' eyes, which had been so soft and warm as they looked at Jon, had turned as frosty as the tips of mountains of the North when examining Sansa.

Her exotic lady in waiting hovered in the background, sharing silent, pregnant looks with the Dragon Queen.

“Thank you for your hospitality, my lady,” Daenerys said. Her smile never quite reaching her eyes. “I hope it hasn't been too much of a burden.”

“Not at all, your grace,” Sansa said. Curteously.

Daenerys nodded and gave Sansa her back, indicating that the conversation was at an end. However, after a moment, she felt the northerner linger.

“Yes?” Daenerys asked. Forcing herself to keep her voice even.

When Daenerys saw Sansa hesitate, she gave a wry smile.

“Speak your mind, my lady,” Daenerys said. “I am a guest in your home.”

Still, Sansa waited another moment,

“Jon is the most stubborn man I've ever met,” Sansa declared.

Daenerys gave her a look that said 'I agree.' And waited.

“So how did you do it?” Sansa asked.

“ _Do what_?” Daenerys replied.

Sansa forced herself to smile. They both knew what she was talking about. And yet Daenerys had manouvered it so that Sansa had to make the first move. Sansa found herself admiring the play.

 _Littlefinger would have enjoyed meeting her_ , Sansa thought. _A worthy adversary in the great game._

“Jon left intending to forge an alliance,” Sansa said. “So you can imagine my surprise when I received a letter from him months later... declaring that he'd bent the knee. _To you_.”.

“When I met Jon,” Daenerys began. “I _demanded_ he bend the knee. _Twice._ ”

Daenerys let a moment pass.

“And he refused,” Daenerys added. “ _Twice_.”

Sansa didn't know quite what to say.

“I did not ask him the third time,” Daenerys said, her voice growing softer at the memory. Of Jon pledging himself to her. “That was of his choosing.”

“ _Was it_?” Sansa wondered.

Daenerys disliked the impertinence in Sansa's eyes, but she reminded herself that she was speaking with Jon's sister.

“Are you accusing me of _bewitching_ Jon?” Daenerys tittered, exchanging an amused look with Missandei. Her beautiful eyes glittered like rubies, Sansa saw. No man would have been able to resist those beautiful eyes, Sansa knew. And Jon was only a man.

“Is it _so different_ from magic?” Sansa wondered. “A pair of beautiful eyes. A soft smile. A warm bed. These are dark and trying times, your grace. Men have given away kingdoms for less.”

“You forget whom you are speaking to,” Missandei's voice cut in. Her eyes were fierce and her voice was sharp as a freshly whetted blade. “Her Grace is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“It's all right Missandei,” Daenerys said. Missandei nodded and stepped back.

“Most men,” Daenerys agreed. “ _But not Jon_.”

The smile on Sansa's face was tight. Strained.

“ _Men are men,_ your grace,” Sansa said. “And words are wind.”

Daenerys knew Sansa's words came from the bitter draught of experience. She felt a twinge of pity for her.

“Jon and I,” Daenerys began.

“Are _in love?_ ” Sansa asked. Her voice turned scornful. “That's awfully _convenient,_ isn't it? Falling in love with perhaps the only person who can secure the _largest_ part of your kingdom?”

Daenerys gave her a frozen smile. The twinge of pity became a ball of fire in her stomach.

“ _Understand each other,_ ” Daenerys said. “ _We're the same._ ”

Sansa didn't understand.

“ _Are you a queen, my lady?”_ Daenerys asked.

“No,” Sansa said.

“ _I am,_ ” Daenerys said. “And until your _brother_ pledges himself to my cause before the northern lords, he is _still a king_. _Your king._ ”

“That's the best part about being a monarch,” Daenerys added. “You can do _entirely_ as you please.”

This time, Sansa knew the conversation was at an end.

Missandei watched her queen walk around her new chambers after Sansa had departed. Gazing at the wall. Running her hands over things. She spent quite a bit of time admiring the fireplace.

“Missandei,” Daenerys said.

“Yes your grace?” Missandei asked.

“Come closer,” Daenerys said, gesturing to the fireplace. “Warm yourself.”

“Thank you, your grace,” Missandei said.

The women held their hands out over the fire. Letting it warm their chilled bones.

“What do you think of it?” Missandei asked.

“The North?” Daenerys asked. “Or Winterfell?”

Missandei shrugged. _Both,_ she meant.

“It's certainly not Dragonstone,” Daenerys said. Running a critical eye over everything.

Missandei smiled.

“But I like it,” Daenerys said. “It's.... _homely._ ”

Missandei saw her queen admiring the fireplace. A little smile playing on her lips. Missandei knew where her queen's thoughts lay. Missandei was dying to ask. It was a topic both of them had studiously ignored all the way here. But she knew she needed to be delicate.

“Would you like a bath, your grace?” she asked.

“ _Mmmm_ ,” Daenerys said. “Thank you. That would be nice. The road has left me feeling filthy.”

Missandei ordered the servants to fetch them some warm water.

“Your grace,” she began.

“Hmmm?” Daenerys said. Not really paying attention.

“What happened between yourself and Lord Snow?”

The question shocked Daenerys. The sheer boldness of it. From Missandei, no less. Daenerys didn't know what to say.

She searched for a response and found none. So she did what any royal person would do. She seized upon the tinest bit of offence she could find. Quickly.

“He's not a Lord Missandei!” Daenerys said.

Mustering up as much false anger as she could.

“Your grace?” Missandei blinked.

“Jon is _not_ a lord,” Daenerys said. Heatedly. “He's still the King in the North!”

Her queen was rather touchy when it came to northerner, Missandei thought. Supressing a grin.

“Of course,” Missandei said. “Forgive me, your grace. I meant no offence.”

“Honestly, Missandei,” Daenerys chided her. “I'm surprised at you.”

Daenerys gave her handmaid the most disappointed look she could conjure. Then she looked away.

Daenerys prayed Missandei would leave the matter there. For a moment, Daenerys thought she was safe. And then Missandei spoke again.

“What happened between yourself and... _the king_?” Missandei said. Choosing her words with the utmost care.

 _The king she said,_ Daenerys noted. _Not the King in the North._

Daenerys knew she should correct Missandei, but for some reason, she found herself unwilling to. Besides, she liked the sound of it. It was something that didn't escape Missandei's attention either.

“ _Missandei_ ,” Daenerys said. She tried to make herself sound stern. But her voice was soft.

“Forgive me your grace,” Missandei said. Feigning hurt. “I know I shouldn't pry. It's not my place.”

Daenerys saw her turn to leave. Suddenly, Daenerys realised how just much she wanted to tell _someone._ _Anyone._ What she was feeling. Truly feeling.

 _She could never tell any of the others_ , she knew. Varys. Tyrion. Grey Worm. Jorah. _It was out of the question._

 _Missandei was the only one she could talk to,_ she realised _. The only one she could confide in. The only one she could trust with this._

“Missandei,” she said. Touching her on the shoulders. “I spoke harshly and without cause. _Forgive me._ ”

For a moment, Daenerys feared she'd leave. But when Missandei turned to her, she was smiling. _Mischeviously_.

“ _And?_ ” Missandei asked.

Daenerys gave Missandei a stern look. Well, she tried. And utterly failed.

“I....” she began.

Daenerys didn't know what to say. And yet, she knew, she wanted to say something. Needed to say something. Missanei saw a thousand emotions flash across her queen's face.

“ _Missandei_ ,” Daenerys said. Dropping her eyes. _Blushing._ “You shouldn't ask these things of me. It's not _proper_.”

“If you don't want to tell me your grace...” Missandei said. _Teasingly_.

Daenerys wanted to tell her, Missandei knew. Was dying to tell her. She saw her queen search for the right words. She saw her look exasperated. And then saw her queen smile when she found just them.

“ _Many things_ ,” Daenerys said. With a sly smile.

“ _Many_.... _things_?” Missandei grinned.

She knew exactly what those words meant. The women smiled at each other.

“He seems like a good man,” Missandei said. Delicately.

And suddenly, Missandei found herself abandoning all propriety and clasping Daenerys' hands.

“ _Is he good to you? Does he treat you kindly_?” she asked.

Missandei found herself _hoping_ that he did. _Praying_ he did. Her queen had suffered so much in her young life. She couldn't bear to see her hurt again.

Daenerys saw the emotion writ large on her handmaid's face. In her eyes. _Concern. Love. Care._ It warmed her heart, to know, once again, that she was loved in this world. Made her smile. Daenerys found herself wanting to reassure the young woman.

 _You are a good friend Missandei,_ she thought. _Loyal. Faithful._

“He is. He does,” Daenerys nodded. She let out a little breath. Smiling to herself. The words came easy now. “He's _kind_. And _sweet_. And _gentle_.”

“Not _too gentle_ , I hope, your grace,” Missandei interjected. _Naughtily._ Pursing her lips.

Daenerys' eyes widened. She shot her friend an incredulous look.

“ _Missandei_!” she said. “What has gotten into you?”

And then Daenerys remembered exactly what had gotten into Missandei: _Grey Worm._

The thought made her giggle. Which made Missandei giggle. Then the women were laughing.

“You look _happy_ ,” Missandei said. Squeezing her queen's hands. Gently.

“ _I am happy_ ,” Daenerys said. She smiled. Wide. Her eyes shone with happiness. “I've never been more....”

And suddenly, Daenerys stopped. Missandei saw a look on her queen's face. A shadow pass over it.

“ _Terrified_ ,” Daenerys said.

Misssandei gave her queen a sympathetic look.

“I'm afraid sometimes too,” she said. “For Grey Worm.”

Daenerys shook her head.

“You don't understand Missandei,” she said. “I've never felt _this_. _Not_ _this_.”

Daenerys withdrew her hands from Missandei's. She clasped them around herself. Stood close to the fire. Allowing it to warm her.

“Jon isn't like the others,” Daenerys said. “ _Drogo._ _Daario_.”

Daenerys let out a little laugh. The comparison between her former lovers and Jon seemed absurd. Even the memory of Drogo was nothing to her compared to what she felt for Jon.

 _I thought I loved them_ , Daenerys thought. Shaking her head. _I thought I knew. I had no idea._

“Jon is _different,_ ” Daenerys said.

“ _Different_. _How_?” Missandei asked. Delicately.

Daenerys searched for an answer.

“He _pet_ Drogon,” Daenerys said. Suddenly. The memory assailed her. As if she could ever forget that day. After she'd returned from battle. Looking down at him from atop her largest dragon.

He looked so small then. For once, he wasn't towering over her. It made her feel powerful. Like a conquerer. A queen.

She hadn't stopped Drogon from approaching Jon. Even she didn't know why. She was at the ready to call Drogon off. But something had stopped her. Something she couldn't explain. She wanted to see what would happen.

“What do you mean?” Missandei asked.

“He _pet_ him,” Daenerys said. Her eyes widened. With amazement. “As if Drogon was a child.”

Missandei let out a nervous laugh.

“That's....impossible. A dragon is not a child.”

“ _Impossible,_ ” Daenerys said. “ _Yes_. _I know_. But I was _there_. I _saw_ it.”

Just the memory of it was enough to inflame her passions.

 _That was the day,_ Daenerys realised. _The day she finally admitted it to herself. That she wanted him. After she'd seen him with Drogon. Looking back, she knew it was a test_. _To find out if he was_ _worthy of her._

Missandei looked bewildered. Daenerys found herself explaining further.

“ _Something_ draws me to him,” Daenerys said. “Something I can't explain. Something I don't understand.”

“It's _new_ ,” Missandei said. Soothingly. “All new things are _exciting_.”

“It's not that I _want him_ , Missandei,” Daenerys went on.

Fixing Missandei with an imploring look. As if she were begging her to understand. She found it hard to say the words. But she needed to. To tell someone.

 _It's that I need him. And I've never needed anything before,_ Daenerys thought to herself. _Ever._

Daenerys took a pained breath. And touched her stomach.

“When we're apart,” she said. “It's like....it's like I can't breathe.”

Missandei understood. _Finally._

“You _love_ him,” she said. Quietly.

Daenerys said nothing. For a long time. And then she spoke.

“I can't lose _him_ Missandei,” Daenerys said. Her voice quivered a little. And then it became firm. “I _won't._ Not for _anything_. Not for _anyone_.”

 _I'd let the seven kingdoms and everyone in them burn to save him,_ Daenerys vowed. _I'd give my life to save him._

“ _Nothing bad will happen,_ ” Missandei said. _Soothingly._

Daenerys smiled. Sadly.

 _You don't know Missandei,_ she thought _. You haven't seen what's coming. The army of the dead._

“Something bad always happens,” Daenerys whispered.

She felt a chill run through her body. She wrapped her arms around herself. And then she stared at the fireplace.

 _Jon_ , she thought.  _Return to me soon, my love. I miss you. I need you._

 

 


	8. Jon Snow

 

Jon made his way to the Heart Tree. Slower than he should have, considering Bran was waiting for him. He couldn't help it. He wanted to take it all in. Breathe it all in. He'd been away for so long. He'd missed the North even more than he could have imagined. A light blanket of snow had covered everything, making it look as if it were a drawing in a children's book.

_Daenerys was right_ , Jon thought. _Winterfell is beautiful._

Just the thought of his queen made him smile. Warmed his chest. Lightened his steps. Jon wondered if this was what happiness felt like. Had he ever been happy? Not as far as he could remember. He'd learn to be content with his lot in life. Made his peace with it. Thought happiness wasn't for the likes of him.

_I miss her already_ , Jon thought. Shaking his head. Wondering what sort of spell she'd cast on him. Despite the words they'd shared and the promises they'd made, Jon feared they were living on borrowed time. If they survived the great war, sooner or later, Jon suspected she'd be _forced_ to turned him away. For duty. For her crown.

Even a queen could not do _entirely_ as she pleased, Jon knew. Sacrifices would need to be made. For the greater good. To bind the kingdoms together. They both knew it. Her better than him. Or worse, she'd simply _tire_ of him.

Jon wondered what would become of him. Where he'd go. _Where do bastards go?_ Jon wondered.

Would she expect him to hold the North for her? To remain Warden of the North? Loving her from a distance? Always watching her? Silently?

_That would be the cruelest stroke of all_ , Jon thought. _Loving her from afar. Getting close enough to touch her and yet, remaining maddeningly out of reach._

Jon prayed he'd have the strength to do what she required of him, should that day ever come. That he would not be driven mad by it. Even death seemed more comforting than that thought. It darknened his mood.

He looked up to find himself in front of the Heart Tree. Bran was waiting for him. Unmoving. Sitting in a strange contraption Jon could not fathom. His face was blank.

“ _Bran_ ,” Jon said. Felt his heart warm as he stepped forward.

“Hello Jon,” Bran said.

The words were distant. Unfeeling. Bran's eyes were empty. It gave Jon pause and halted his steps.

“ _You've changed,_ ” Jon said. Unsurely.

“I have,” Bran said. “I'm the three-eyed raven now.”

Jon didn't know what to say to that. So he said the only thing he could.

“In your letter you said you saw the Night King and his army,” Jon ventured. “Marching.”

“I did,” Bran continued. “I see _everything._ Everything that's ever happened. Everything that's happening _now._ ”

Jon found himself lost for words yet again. Bran's words sounded like that of a madman, but then again, so did Jon's own words of White Walkers. Jon searched for the kindest thing he could say.

“ _I know_ things haven't been easy for you,” Jon began. “But...”

Bran didn't let him finish that thought.

“ _You know nothing_ , Jon Snow,” Bran said. His expression never changed. He didn't even blink.

Jon felt the breath knocked out of him. Felt his blood run cold as the knives that were once in his chest. He gaped at the figure that was once his little brother. Astonished. Bran didn't need Jon to ask the question.

“I've been watching you, Jon. _At Dragonstone._ In _the North_. At _The Wall_. I watched you _die._ I watched you come _back_ ,” Bran said.

“I saw you with the wildlings. I saw your _first love_ ,” Bran said. His eyes turned glassy. As if he were lost in the memories. “Your _first kiss._ Your _first steps_. Your _first words_. I saw _the moment_ you were _born_. _And before_...”

Jon's eyes grew sad.

“ _You're not Bran_ ,” he said.

“ _No,_ ” Bran said. For once, his eyes were kind. “ _I'm not._ Not the Brandon Stark that I once was. Not the Brandon Stark you remember.”

Jon was lost. And clung to the only thing he knew for certain.

“The Night King....” Jon began.

“Is not why I summoned you,” Bran said. Seeing Jon's confusion he added. “I haven't seen the Night King and his army for some time now. He seems to have... _shielded_ himself from my sight. His powers are immense. Far beyond any of my own.”

“Then why am I here?” Jon asked.

“To learn the truth,” Bran said. Smiling a little now. “The truth about yourself.”

“ _The truth_ ,” Jon chuckled. _Bitterly._ “ _I know_ the truth about myself Bran. I know what I am. Lady Stark never let me forget. You don't have to remind me.”

“You don't,” Bran said. “You have no idea.”

Jon shooked his head. Felt his patience fray.

“Bran,” Jon said. Breathing deeply. “The only thing that matters is defeating the Night King. That's the only thing I care about.”

“That's not true,” Bran observed. Casually. “ _What about Daenerys_?”

Jon stiffened up.

“What about her?” he asked. Suspiciously.

“You _love_ her,” Bran said. “And she _loves_ you.”

“What does she have to do with this?” Jon asked. Hesitantly.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Bran said. “And _everything_.”

Jon felt tired. The journey to Winterfell had been a long one. And he wanted nothing more than to return to his queen.

“If you have something to say,” Jon said. Gritting his teeth. “Say it.”

“Would you like to know who your mother was?” Bran asked.

“ _My mother_?” Jon asked. His voice turned hoarse. His eyes grew wide.

“I've _seen_ her,” Bran said. “And _your father_. You favour her, in truth.”

Jon was bewildered now. Utterly befuddled. Growing up, everyone had said just how much he looked like Lord Stark. Even more than Robb. Which is perhaps what added to Lady Stark's hatred of him. As if he could help that.

“ _Lord Stark_ is my father,” Jon said. Explaining it to Bran as if he were a lackwit. “You know that.”

“ _No,_ ” Bran said. “ _He is not_.”

Jon could do nothing. He made to speak, but no words came. In the end, he only let out a little exhale.

“You won't believe me,” Bran said. “I'll say the words, but you won't believe it.”

Something seemed to occur to him.

“Daenerys was right,” Bran said. “ _You have to see it to know._ ”

Jon felt a chill grip his heart. Those words were Daenerys'. He remembered them well.

“Your hand,” Bran said. “Place it on the Heart Tree.”

For a moment Jon was afraid. Until Bran spoke again.

“It's all right,” Bran said. “I won't hurt you.”

Then, Jon felt foolish. He was a warrior. He'd killed men in battle. He'd faced the Night King and the dead. Here he was, a grown man cowering before a boy. He felt embarassed.

“Bran,” Jon began.“Let me take you back inside. Get you warm.”

“ _Please,_ ” Bran said.

Jon considered it. He took off his glove and placed his hand on the tree. Slowly. Suddenly, Jon found himself elsewhere. In a tower. A bedchamber. A woman lay on the bed.

“Where are we?” Jon wondered. He looked at Bran.

“In a memory,” Bran said.

Jon looked at the woman. She looked ever so familiar, but Jon couldn't place her. It nagged at him. _She looked so familiar._

The door creaked open. Jon saw a young man come through it. Jon knew this man. Knew his eyes. Knew his smell.

“ _Father_ ,” Jon whispered. Disbelieving.

“He can't hear us,” Bran said. Softly.

“Father!” Jon cried out. Ignoring Bran.

“He can't see us,” Bran added. “We're not really here.”

“Lyanna,” Eddard Stark whispered. “I've missed you so much.”

“I've missed you too big brother,” Lyanna replied. Her eyes were watery.

Jon could see fear in her beautiful eyes. She was dying, that much was clear. And she was afraid. But not for herself. There was blood everywhere, Jon saw. So much blood. Jon had never been squeamish at the sight of blood, but the scene horrified him for reasons he couldn't explain.

Jon saw Eddard Stark lean in close. He had to strain to make out the words.

“His name is _Aegon Targaeryn_ ,” Lyanna whispered. “Promise me Ned. Promise me.”

Jon saw the shock on Eddard Stark's face. Saw a babe brought forward. Saw him look down at the helpless, innocent infant. Saw the wretchedness on his Eddard Stark's face.

“Promise me, Ned,” Lyanna begged.

Jon looked to Bran. Helplessly. The boy that had once been his brother offered him nothing. No words of succour. Not even a kind look.

And then it hit Jon. The meaning of it. Why they were here.

“ _No,_ ” Jon said. Shaking his head “This isn't real. This isn't happening. This is a dream. Or a trick.”

Bran remained unmoved. Unyielding.

“Promise me Ned,” Lyanna begged. “ _Promise me._ ”

“Make it stop,” Jon said. Quietly. His body trembled with barely concealed rage. He shut his eyes. “ _Please._ ”

“Promise me, Ned,” Lyanna pleaded.

“ _Make it stop_!” Jon demanded. Angrily.

“I promise, Lyanna,” Eddard said. Finally. “ _I promise_.”

Jon saw the fear go out of Lyanna's eyes. Saw her smile. She looked at peace. And then he saw her hand fall to the pillow. Saw the life ebb from her body.

The child began to wail. Eddard embraced the child. Held the infant close. Even through his tears and grief, he soothed the child.

“Shhhh,” Eddard whispered. Caressing the child's face. “Hush now. I'm here. I've got you.”

The door opened again. A man Jon didn't know limped through it. Holding his side. Placed his weapon by the bedside. Looked at Lyanna's limp body.

“Howland Reed,” Bran explained. Softly.

“ _Lyanna_ ,” Howland whispered. He sat by her bedside. Leaned over her body and shut her eyes. Sighed. Hung his head in shame and despair.

Only a moment later did he seem to notice Eddard. And the babe. He stared at his friend. Then at the babe. Then at Lyanna. Noting the blood around the bed. Jon felt the tears prick at his eyes.

“ _Ned_?” Howland asked. Carefully. “Whose child is that?”

Eddard shut his eyes for a moment. Held the infant close. When his eyes opened, his look was defiant. His resolve was iron.

“ _Mine_ ,” Eddard said.

There was a moment of strained silence.

“ _Ned_ ,” Reed said. Pleadingly. “ _Think about what you're saying_.”

“ _I have,_ ” Eddard said. His voice was firm. “The child _is mine._ ”

“ _We swore an oath_ ,” Reed reminded him. “ _Robert_ is our king.”

A moment passed. Eddard Stark's eyes turned hard.

“This is _my son Howland,”_ Eddard said. His voice was unyielding as Valyrian steel. “ _Do you understand_?”

Eddard held Howland's gaze. His eyes were cold. Piercing. Proud. They would have been enough to cow any man, no matter how brave or fierce, Jon knew. Howland Reed nodded.

“ _Tell me_ you understand,” Ned demanded. “ _Say the words._ ”

“ _I understand Ned_ ,” Reed assured him.

Ned nodded. Curtly. Brought the child even closer to his chest and cradled him.

“What will you call him?” Reed asked. Softly.

The tension seemed to leave Eddard's body. He looked down at the infant. His eyes softened. Shined with love. He considered it. His smile was wracked with grief and pain.

“ _Jon,_ ” Eddard said. _Softly_. “His name is _Jon Snow._ ”

Jon didn't know how it happened. When it was he stumbled back, and fell. Horrified. In the snow. The irony utterly escaped him. Jon couldn't breathe.

_The truth felt like dying all over again, Jon thought. Like a dozen knives through his chest._ He wasn't sure if it was the snow or the knowledge of what he'd seen. His eyes stung. Hot and fierce.

And then Jon remembered. All the times he'd snuck out of his bed at the dead of night. To pray in front of the Heart Tree. On his knees. Weeping. Offering sacrifices to all the gods new and old. Above and below.

That his father would rouse him from his bed in the middle of the night. Tell him it was all a mistake and that he was a trueborn. Like his brother Robb. Jon could have laughed until he wept. When Jon attempted to breathe, he only let out a pitiful moan.

“I know its difficult,” Bran said. “But you have to face the truth. As you always have.”

“ _The truth_ ,” Jon said. Gasping for breath. Jon couldn't breathe. His chest felt like it was aflame.

“Lyanna Stark is your mother,” Bran added. “And your father...”

Bran gave Jon a moment. Allowed it to sink in. Saw the shock on Jon's face.

_The man she ran away with,_ Jon thought. _The man she loved._

“ _Rhaegar,_ ” Jon whispered.

“They were _married_ ,” Bran added. “You're not a bastard. You're Rhaegar's son. His _true born_ son. His _heir_.”

Jon looked at Bran. Uncomprehendingly.

“The Iron Throne is _yours,_ ” Bran added.

The look Jon gave Bran was angry. Disdainful. He didn't care about some ugly piece of twisted iron. All Jon could think about was _Daenerys._

“ _Daenerys_ ,” Jon gasped.

She was _his blood_. _His family._ What would he tell her? How would he face her? And what would she think of him? Of what they'd done.

“Is your aunt,” Bran added.

“ _No_ ,” Jon said. His eyes welled up with tears. He shook his head. “It's not true. It can't be true. It can't.”

_I love her, Jon thought._ Pitifully. _Daenery is the only thing I've ever loved._ _The only thing I've ever wanted. Please. It can't be true._

The next thought that hit him stung the most: _And it's wrong. It's all wrong._

A surge of anger brought Jon back to his feet. He turned and walked away without another word. Bran didn't bother calling after him. He knew where Jon was going.

He also knew that Arya had been watching them from afar. Growing ever more alarmed. In fact, at this very moment, she was marching towards him. With murder in her deadly eyes.

“What did you do?” Arya asked. _Fiercely._ “What did you tell Jon?”

“The truth,” Bran said. Serenely. “About himself. He needed to know.”

“What truth?” Arya asked. Curious, despite herself.

Bran only regarded her with a half smile.

“One of us should go after him,” Bran suggested. “And seeing as I have no legs...”

“ _You're a dick_ ,” Arya snarled. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“No,” Bran said. Entirely unconcerned with her opinion of him.

Arya resisted the urge to pull the knife he'd gifted her and stab him with it. Instead, she merely punched his shoulder. Hard.

“Ow,” Bran said. But his expression never changed. Nor did he give any indication that he'd actually felt anything.

Arya found herself torn. Between trying to interrogate Bran and going after Jon. Jon won out. Easily. Her eyes warned Bran that this was far from over. Bran didn't bother watching her go. He just sat there. In front of the Heart Tree. Alone. Already in another world. Another time.

“ _Jon_?” Arya called out. She'd tracked Jon's footsteps to the crypts rather easily. He had the walk of a man who'd received a wound. It only further sparked her curiousity.

The darkness once scared Arya. It held no fears for her now. She _was_ the darkness. No reply came.

But Arya could see with more than just her eyes. She could hear him as well. His chest heavy. His breathing slow. Her well-attuned ears even heard the teardrops falling to the floor.

Jon was crying, Arya realised with a start. Her anger at Bran and her hurt for Jon only increased. She pulled a torch from the wall, then lit it with a rag.

She raised the torch, stepping forward gingerly. And found him staring at the statue of Lyanna. A mixture of grief, adoration and anger in his face. His cheeks were moist.

“Jon?” she asked. Her eyes were kind. “What happened? What did Bran say?”

Jon didn't seem to hear her. He said nothing. He walked away and Arya trailed him. Slowly. Until he'd reached the statue of Eddard Stark. He stared at the statue. Silently. The look on his face was wretched now. Arya watched him. Concern writ all over her young face. She bit her lip.

Suddenly, Jon crumpled. Fell to his hands and knees. Arya moved forward quickly, catching him as he fell. Embracing him. Her expression a mixture of astonishment and fear. Wondering what could have shattered the resolve of the strongest of her brothers.

Arya held him tight as Jon wept. Comforted him. Stroked his hair and soothed him as if he were a child. Until his tears had dried and his whimpers had stopped. They sat there in the darkness. Holding each other. The torchlight growing ever dimmer.

Afterwards things had been deathly quiet between them. Finally, Jon began speaking. When he finished, Arya knew she was staring at him, but she couldn't help herself.

Arya couldn't believe it. It seemed impossible. All of it. But there it was. She would have never believed it. Had Jon not said the words. Told her what he'd seen with his own eyes.

“All these years,” Jon said. Staring at the statue of Eddard Stark. “He lied to me. It was all a lie. _All of it._ ”

When Jon's eyes seemed to grow angry, Arya moved to soothe him.

“Not _all_ of it,” Arya said. Touching Jon's hand. “His love wasn't a lie.”

“He loved you so much he lied to everyone. The _honourable_ Ned Stark told everyone he betrayed his wife. Think of what that cost him.” Arya said. Her voice growing soft and mournful.

“I can't _imagine_ loving someone so much...” Arya finished.

That seemed to calm Jon's anger, Arya saw. She saw him lost in thought. She knew what he was thinking. Of _whom_ he was thinking.

“What are you going to do?” Arya asked. Her voice was tender.

“I don't know,” Jon admitted. “All I know is...”

He exhaled deeply.

“You love _her_ ,” Arya said. A little smile on her face.

Jon looked heartbroken. But he would not deny it.

The smile on his face was pained as well. Arya could see Jon was being torn apart inside.

“Aegon The Conquerer married his sisters,” Arya said. Gently. “ _Both of them._ And Targaeryns wed siblings for centuries afterwards.”

“That doesn't make it _right_ ,” Jon said. Stubbornly. “She's my _blood_. My _family_. And we... _gods_... _We..._ ”

Jon dropped his head. Shut his eyes. Inhaled deeply. Remembered all the times they'd made love. So often, he'd lost count. Explored each other's bodies for hours. In every way either of them could imagine. Without shame. Or hesitation. Without a second thought.

Much to Jon's despair, he found the memories both shamed him and made his blood rush. Worst of all, he wanted her. _Still._ Even the knowledge that she was his _blood_ didn't still his ardour for her. Worse, Jon suspected that he wanted Daenerys _even more._

“Shagged like rabbits?” Arya ventured.

That jolted Jon back to the present.

“ _Arya_!” Jon said. She saw his eyes grow both concerned and angry. “Where did you learn that sort of language?”

“Assassin school,” Arya said. Matter of factly.

Jon gaped at her.

“I was a faceless man for a while. Long story,” Arya said. Dismissively.

“So you did. Shag like rabbits?” Arya enquired. Eager to return to the topic.

“ _We_ ,” Jon stuttered. Finding himself _embarassed._ “We were _together. For days._ _Alone_.”

Arya rolled her eyes. Jon still thought of her as a child.

“You're lucky women find you pretty,” Arya muttered. “Or you'd _never_ get any.”

Jon was exasperated. He found himself wanting to flee.

“How long have we been down here?” Jon asked.

“I don't know,” Arya said. “An hour. Maybe two.”

Arya saw Jon gather his courage.

“I have to go,” he said. Standing up. Dusting himself off.

“What will you say?” Arya asked. She saw him search himself and come up empty.

“I don't know,” Jon said. “I don't know anything anymore.”

“Don't do anything stupid,” Arya warned him. “ _She has dragons._ ”

“I'm well aware,” Jon muttered.

Arya tried not to smother Jon. She really did. But she couldn't help but give him a hug. Which Jon returned.

“You're still my big brother. Aren't you?” Arya asked. Looking up at him with soft hopeful eyes.

That at least made him smile.

“I'll always be your big brother,” Jon said. His voice was raspy.

They held each other. Close.

Arya decided to try to make him smile again.

“ _Actually,_ I think you're my great uncle,” Arya said. “Or something.”

“ _Or something_ ,” Jon said. Softly.

Arya knew Jon wasn't smiling. She tightened her grip on him as she bit her lip. Wishing she could soothe his hurt.

When Daenerys heard the door open behind her, she resisted the urge to peer over her shoulder. She felt Jon linger at the door. Heard Missandei move to make herself scarce. She waited patiently until the handmaid's footsteps receded and the door shut behind them. Safely.

“ _Where have you been_?” Daenerys asked.

Tending to herself in front of her mirror. Refusing to look at him. For once, the annoyance in her voice was not feigned. He'd been gone for nearly two hours. She'd found herself miserable without him. Waiting for him. Wondering where he was. What was keeping him from her arms.

Worse, he was just standing there. Watching her. She could feel his gaze on her. Daenerys waited. For Jon to walk up behind her. Embrace her. Shushing away her protests. Planting kisses on her shoulder and neck and pull her close. Begging her forgiveness for keeping her waiting.

She would feign anger and deny him. At first. But he would insist. He would kiss her. Caress her. Until she gave in and gave herself to him entirely. And then he would take her into his arms. Make her forget. Soothe her troubles and worries. It was their way.

But Jon did nothing. Said nothing. Her impatience only grew.

“I had a half a mind to post two Unsullied at my door and order them to keep you out,” Daenerys added.

Knowing full well _he knew_ she'd do nothing of the sort. She turned around, then stood up.

“If you think you can just turn up at this hour and _expect._..” she began. Her eyes sullen but still playful.

The words died on her lips. Jon's eyes, which were always melancholy, were in turmoil. His face was drawn. He carried himself as if he'd taken a mortal blow.

Jon was staring at her. Still. His soft eyes growing ever softer. He was wearing a half-smile, but it was the look of a man being tortured.

Daenerys knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Her lips parted to speak, but no words emerged. She felt it in her blood run cold. She felt afraid then. Had he learned the truth about the Tarlys? Was he angry with her?

“ _Jon?_ ” she managed to say. Softly.

Her lover said nothing. He just stared at her. With those soft, warm eyes. She could see him struggle for breath as his chest rose and fall. There was no anger in his eyes. Only sorrow. She saw him swallow. Hard.

_No,_ Daenerys thought. _Not the Tarlys._ _If Jon knew about the Tarlys, he'd be angry. This was something else._

_Bran,_ she remembered. _Jon went to see Bran._

“ _What happened_?” Daenerys asked. Carefully. “What did Bran say?”

She saw Jon start at his brother's name.

“ _Bran_...” Jon said. With great difficulty. She saw Jon struggle to tame himself. That face, which was so often implacable, was in agony.

Jon was lost. Utterly lost. He couldn't find the words. He was never good with words. Robb was good with words, Jon thought. He'd know exactly what to say. It made him want to weep.

Daenerys forced herself to remember. What had Jon told her about Bran? He was crippled from a fall. Jon thought Bran was dead. And that Bran saw the Night King marching near the wall.

“ _The truth_ ,” Jon said.

Daenerys blinked. The grief in his voice was too much for her. She wanted to soothe him. To take him into her arms. But she found herself frozen in place.

“The truth?” Daenerys echoed him. “ _What truth?_ ”

She saw him smile. A smile twisted by grief and anger. And shame.

“The truth... _is a lie,_ ” Jon said.

That made her frown.

“ _What is_?” Daenerys asked. Softly. Inching closer to him.

_Everything_ ,” Jon added. “ _Everything_ is a lie. _All of it_.”

“All of _what_?” Daenerys asked. He was making no sense now.

“ _Me,”_ Jon said. _“My whole life is a lie. Jon Snow... is a lie.”_

As always, she saw it in his eyes. He was telling her the truth. He would never lie to her, Daenerys knew. Which is why she didn't understand. She couldn't understand.

“ _No_ ,” Daenerys said. Softly. “You're the worst liar I've ever met.”

She took a step towards him and reached for him. She saw him flinch. As if she'd struck him. Saw his eyes widen.

_He's afraid,_ Daenerys thought. _Jon is afraid._

It was an absurd thought. She'd never seen him afraid. Not once. Not when he was surrounded by ten thousand dead men. Fighting them off, one at a time. Not when he'd stepped in front of her most terrifying dragon. And yet, he was afraid. She wondered what could have happened that was so terrible.

“It's all right,” Daenerys whispered.

She stepped to him as if he were an untamed Dothraki steed. Knowing that one wrong move would have him fleeing from her. She reached out and touched his cheek with her palm. Her touch seemed to calm him. She placed a gentle hand on his chest. Felt him tremble under her touch.

“ _You're shaking_ ,” Daenerys said. She soothed him by running her fingers across his cheek. Allowing him to turn into her touch. Jon closed his eyes. He seemed to find solace in it.

She saw his pain ease. If only a little. She cupped his face, then brought his face to hers. Letting his forehead rest against hers. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper.

“You can tell me,” Daenerys said. Softly. She made herself strong then. For him. For them. “Whatever it is. We'll face it. _Together_.”

Daenerys saw Jon's eyes open. She saw it in his eyes. _The truth._

_He loves me_ , Daenerys thought. _He loves me. He loves me. He loves me._

_I love you,_ Jon wanted to say. _You're the only thing I've loved in this world._

Then Jon remembered Daenerys' words: _I wouldn't have had to marry Viserys if Aegon had lived. I'd marry Aegon._

That lit up his eyes. And gave him hope. He imagined it. Telling her who he was. How her eyes would light up. She'd embrace him. Swear that they'd never be apart. They'd have a family and...

_Childish words_ , Jon thought suddenly. _To match his childish thoughts. Words of a childhood long gone. Not the words of a woman. Not the words of a queen that hopes to rule. A queen who's been betrayed by every man she's ever met. Again and again._

Still, the words remained in his heart. In his eyes. On his lips. Until Jon remembered Bran's words: _Daenerys is your aunt._

_It's wrong,_ Jon thought suddenly. _It's all wrong._

That felt like being stabbed through the heart again. It forced him back. Away from her. Out of her grasp. Daenerys just stared at him. Bewildered. Hurt.

Then Bran's words came flooding back: _You're not a bastard. You're Rhaegar's son. His trueborn son. His heir. The Iron Throne is yours._

Jon stared at Daenerys. Would she _believe_ him? _You have to see it to know,_ Daenerys had said. Bran had echoed them. Jon remembered the words. At the time, he'd turned away from the truth: That she hadn't believed him about the White Walkers. Not until she'd seen it for herself.

Jon would have never believed it either. He was Rhaegar and Lyanna's son. Not until he'd seen it with his own eyes. Not until Bran had shown him.

_She won't believe me,_ Jon thought. Bitterly. _No one will believe me._ _And if she does..._

The thoughts came in a torrent now. Overwheming Jon. Numbing him. Confusing him.

Even if she believed him. Or returned his feelings. What of the realm? Incest was a sin. If they were together, it could cost her her crown. The Faith of The Seven would never tolerate it. How could he ask her to give it up? _For him?_

Would she be _disgusted_ by him? By what they'd done? Worse, would she be _angry_ with him? Accuse him of _lying_ to her all along? _Betraying_ her? _Conspiring_ to steal her birthright?

He'd said as much, hadn't he? That he'd lied to her? That it was all a lie? That _Jon Snow_ was a lie? His _entire life_ was a lie?

And then a lifetime filled with hurt, insults and disappointments came back to him: _Bastard. Traitor. Coward. Liar._ The last one stung him the most.

More of her words returned to him: _I've been betrayed twice._

His words returned to him as well: _I would never betray you._

_And here it was,_ Jon thought. _The third and final betrayal. For love._

Jon had long since stopped fearing death. The eternal darkness was almost an old friend now. But Jon knew what he feared most: Her _hate_. Her _loathing_. To see Daenerys' beautiful eyes turn _cold_ and _cruel_ would be more than he could bear. And for all his bravery in battle, that was a risk Jon found himself unable to bear.

_I will never tell her,_ Jon vowed. _I will never tell anyone. I will see her seated on the throne and live out my days as the bastard son of Eddard Stark._

“ _I'm sorry_ ,” Jon said. “ _I'm so sorry._ ”

And with that, he stepped back. Away from her.

"Jon," Daenerys said. Staring at him. Disbelieving. He was leaving her. Jon was leaving her. She refused to believe it. Stubbornly. Jon would never leave her. She knew it. As surely as she knew he loved her.

_He loves me_ , Daenerys thought. _I've seen it in his eyes. He has the most honest eyes I've ever seen._

_I love you,_ Daenerys wanted to say. _Stay with me. Please. I'll die without you._

But she couldn't. She was a queen. And a dragon. And Dragon Queens did not beg men to stay with them. Not even kings.

Only when Daenerys saw Jon begin to turn his back on her, did she to find her anger. Her rage. It coarsed through her. White hot.

“ _I haven't given you permission to leave_ ,” Daenerys said. _Arrogantly_. _Haughtily_. _Angrily._

She saw the corner of his mouth turn upwards at those words. Ever so slightly. His eyes were filled with tears.

“I am _your queen,”_ she added.

But try as she might, Daenerys couldn't stop her voice from quivering at those last two words. Pitifully. Pleadingly.

_You'll always be my queen,_ Jon thought. _From this day, until the end of my days._

_He loves me,_ Daenerys thought. She could see it in his eyes. _He has the most honest eyes I've ever..._

“ _No,_ ” Jon said. His voice breaking. “That can _never_ be.”

And with that, Jon walked away from Daenerys. Leaving her standing there. Shattered. Gasping for breath. It was Missandei who found her. Minutes or hours later, Daenerys didn't know. Sitting on the floor. In a daze. Holding herself. Tears streaming down her cheeks. The tears refused to stop.

“Your grace,” Missandei gasped. “ _What happened?_ ”

“ _Something terrible,”_ Daenerys said. Through the tears. “ _Something terrible always happens.”_

 

 


	9. The North

Jon could feel it. The Northen lords were growing restless. It felt like they had been awaiting Daenerys in the Great Hall for an interminably long time. He had been avoiding her all day. Hiding from her more like. Like a thief in his own home. He'd found himself hiding from Sam as well. Perhaps because he suspected his friend knew the truth as well. And was bloody well likely to want to make him talk about it. Jon did not want to talk about it. Jon was thankful that Sam seemed occupied with his wildling girl and her babe. Which is likely why he wasn't in The Great Hall.

As ever, his thoughts returned to Daenerys. Jon hadn't slept since the moment he'd walked out of her chambers. He hadn't eaten. All he'd done is wallow in his own misery. Telling himself he was doing the right thing. Even as his resolve grew weaker and weaker. Jon found himself weary. Then, heartsick. He missed Daenerys like he missed drawing breath. It was more than he could bear.

It was Sansa who could, at last, take no more. She rose from her chair and accosted him by the hearth.

“ _Where is she_?” Sansa asked. Impatiently.

Jon did not deign to reply. Sansa noticed the look on Jon's face. Sad. Angry. Distant. More than usual, she thought.

“What's happened?” Sansa asked. Gently.

“ _Nothing,_ ” Jon said. Shutting his eyes. “Nothing has happened.”

Sansa grew irritated with him. As usual, Jon was making the plans and leaving her in the dark. Sansa wondered what had transpired since yesterday.

_A lover's quarrel? Perhaps something more sinister? Had the Dragon Queen refused Jon's proposal of an alliance through marriage? All these questions came to Sansa's mind in annoyingly awfully familiar voice. That of Petyr Baelish._

“If you're planning something...” Sansa began. “I have a right to know.”

“ _Sansa,_ ” Jon snapped. He turned angry eyes on her. Jon felt guilty when he Sansa her flinch. His voice grew softer.

“ _Just... leave me be. Please._ ”

Sansa made to open her mouth, but thought better of it. She gave him a nod, then retreated back to her seat.

Jon stood there for a while. In silence. He never heard her as she came up behind him. Her footsteps eerily silent. Like a shadowcat in the snow.

“You did it, didn't you?” Arya asked.

“Did what?” Jon asked. Refusing to look at her.

“ _Something stupid_ ,” Arya said. Her voice was thick with disappointment and sorrow.

“That's what they'll say about me at my funeral, I wager,” Jon muttered. “There lies Jon Snow. He did  _something stupid._ ”

His words drew a snicker from Arya. Jon finally looked at her. He couldn't help but smile. Arya knew there were no words she could say. She simply took Jon's hand in hers. And squeezed.

Bran stared into the fireplace. Vacantly. He never heard the door open. Never felt the cool gust of air on his face. Never heard the women enter and the guards disappear. He only vaguely heard her the appropriate introductions being made. He was silent for a few moments. And then realised it was his turn to speak.

“ _Daenerys,_ ” Bran said. Turning his chair to meet the Dragon Queen. “It's good to see you again.”

Daenerys was taken aback by the familiarity in Bran Stark's voice. This stranger, who was just a boy. She exchanged a quizzical look with Missandei.  _Again?_ Missandei looked as bewildered as she did.

“Have we met, my lord?” Daenerys asked. Unsurely. Not wanting to give offence. Easing into the chair opposite Bran.

Daenerys resolved not to forget her manners. Even as she grew ever more desperate to get to the heart of the matter. She'd awoken with her cheeks damp with tears. Hoping it was a nightmare. Discovering Missandei asleep in her bed.

She'd waited patiently for Jon. All night. Staring at the door. Telling herself he needed some time. Some distance. To think over. Whatever it was that needed thinking about.

Jon would never abandon her, she thought. She was  _his queen_. He'd said so, countless times. And she'd seen it in his eyes. He loved her. She knew it. No matter his words, she knew he loved her. Still. He had the most honest eyes she'd ever seen. It was only when dawn broke that it hit her:  _Jon wasn't coming._

It was then that she began to weep. Again. She'd never felt more alone in her life. Awaking Missandei with a start. Who took her in her arms and soothed her. Daenerys had wept on Missandei's shoulder until she'd fallen asleep. When she awoke, she knew what she had to do.

She'd gathered all her courage and her queenly demeanour and told Missandei to draw a bath. She summoned Jorah and gave him a task: She needed to see Brandon Stark. Alone. When she was ready, Ser Jorah was waiting. He'd accompanied her to Bran Stark's chambers, where she'd dismissed him with a kindly smile.

“Forgive me,” Bran said. “I forget myself. I only feel that way because I've been watching you.”

“ _Watching me_?” Daenerys asked. She found herself discomfited by the vacant gaze and the flat tone. Missandei inched closer to her queen. Intent on protecting her from harm.

“Your journey,” Bran said. “You've lived a remarkable life, Daenerys. You've come a long way since you stepped out of those flames.”

“You've heard the tale?” Daenerys asked. Forcing herself to smile.

“Heard, yes.” Bran said. He sounded breathless, but only for a moment. “But seeing it... that's another matter entirely.”

Daenerys was sure now that Brandon Stark was playing some game with her. And she knew not why. Try as she might, she couldn't summon her anger. Perhaps it was the boy in front of her. Seeing him. Sitting there. A cripple.

Perhaps it was the pity she felt for him. The shy, sweet boy Jon had described was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he'd been embittered. Knowing he would never walk again. Never run. He would never know what it was like to fly on her dragon, she thought.

“ _You were right,”_ Bran added _.“You have to see it to know.”_

Daenerys felt more than a twinge of discomfort. She'd said those words to Jon. In private. Had he shared them with his sibling? And if so, why? And yet... she knew that wasn't right. Jon would never share something like that with anyone. Something that intimate. It was not his way.

“Bran,” Daenerys began. She didn't know how to ask.

At last, Bran gave her a smile. A strange smile. A fascimile of one. As if he'd forgotten how to smile a long time ago.

“You want to know what I told Jon,” Bran said.

Daenerys nodded.

“ _The truth_ ,” Bran said. “ _About himself._ ”

Daenerys found her mouth dry.

 _If I turn back, I am lost,_ she thought.  _Worse, if I turn back Jon is lost. I will not lose him._

“ _What truth_?” Daenerys asked.

The silence that fell between them was the loudest Daenerys had ever heard.

“He didn't tell you,” Bran said. He gave her a smile that was, for once, kind. His eyes were kind as well.

“I am sorry, Daenerys,” Bran said. “Truly. But Jon's truth is his own. It is not mine to share.”

Daenerys found herself biting back bitter bile. Her eyes grew angry at Bran's defiance. Daenerys stood, then raised herself to her full height. Towering over Bran.

“I am Queen of the seven kingdoms,” Daenerys said. Fiercely. “And you will tell me what you know. Else...”

“Will you lock me in a vault like Xaro Xhoan Daxos? Nail me to a cross like the Masters in Mereen? Or have me roasted like the Tarlys?” Bran wondered. He seemed half-amused by her threat.

Daenerys found herself lost. How did Brandon Stark know these things? And what had happened to her? Was she really threatening a boy as green as summer?

“I need to know,” Daenerys said. Straining to keep her composure. “Whatever it is, I don't care.  _Please_.  _I want Jon to return to me._ ”

“When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” Bran said. His eyes rolled back in his head and turned white. “When the seas go dry and and mountains blow in the winds like leaves. When your womb quickens again and you bear a living child. Then, he will return to you. And not before.”

Daenerys breathed out. Audibly. Found herself clutching at the chair to keep upright. Felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Her eyes narrowed with fear and distrust. She felt her throat grow tight. Her lips moved, but no words came. She placed a protective hand over her stomach.

“Your grace?” Missandei asked. Moving closer. Alarmed by the effect Bran Stark was having on her queen. “Perhaps we should go...”

And then Bran was back. Staring into the flames. Looking as if he'd never left.

“ _Those words_ ,” Daenerys managed to say. Stumbling over herself. “Where did you... how did you?”

A knock on the door interrupted them.

“Forgive me, your grace,” Jorah's deep voice said. “You are needed in The Great Hall. The Northern lords...”

“Hang the Northern lords!” Daenerys swore. Angrily.

Missandei gave Daenerys a sympathetic look.

“Your grace,” Missandei said. Softly.

Daenerys let out an angry noise. She took a moment to gather herself, then stepped back.

“I shall return,” Daenerys warned Bran. “And when I do, I will have the truth from you.”

Brandon Stark said nothing.

“You were right,” Bran said. Daenerys stopped. Crooked her head back at him. “ _Rhaegar and Lyanna loved each other_.  _Very much._ ”

This time, Daenerys couldn't find it in herself to look back at Brandon Stark.

Jon heard the hush fall across the Great Hall as Daenerys Targaeryn swept into the room. Looking entirely unconcerned. Walking as if she hadn't a care in the world. Looking every inch the Queen of the Realm that she was.

Jon felt it. Every eye on the room was on her. The Dragon Queen. The most beautiful woman in the world. Jon could feel it in the room. The air was thick with it. His men desired her and despised her. They were in awe of her and afraid of her.

Daenerys paused, glancing at Jon. He saw the hurt and hope in her eyes. Knowing he was the cause sent waves of guilt and shame through him. Jon dropped his eyes from Daenerys, missing the look of anger that flitted across her face before she hid it behind her queenly mask.

Jon shifted his focus to her the Unsullied at her side. Silent. Deadly. Their faces giving nothing away. Hands clutching their spears and shields. At the ready to cut anyone who stepped too close down.

He saw her small counsel follow in her footsteps. Silently. Tyrion. Missandei. Grey Worm. Jorah. Varys. Tyrion looked a bit cowed, keeping his head bowed low and trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Jorah glanced at Lyanna Mormont. Uncomfortably. Missandei glowered at Jon. Grey Worm took the measure of the room. Only Varys looked entirely at ease. Jon misliked that one, for reasons he could not begin to fathom.

Daenerys took a seat next to Jon, refusing to look at him now. She stared straight ahead, her posture perfect. Jon saw Sansa looking at her out of the corner of her eye. Jon took a breath. He knew the time was at hand. He pushed his chair back and stood.

“My lords...” Jon began. “May I introduce her grace. Daenerys. Of house Targaeryn.....”

Jon went through the proper introductions. His eyes darting this way and that. Taking the measure of the room. He saw few happy faces. It filled him with foreboding. Daenerys did not rise from her seat either.

“My lords,” Daenerys said. Nodding her head, just a little. “I am glad make your acquaintance.”

No-one spoke. No one offered Daenerys words of welcome. When Jon was about to speak again, it was little lady Lyanna that came to the rescue.

“Your grace,” Lyanna Mormont said. Bowing her head, just a little. “The North welcomes you... and yours.”

Jon saw Lyanna Mormont's eyes flicker to Ser Jorah. Who looked as if this was the last place in the realm he'd prefer to be.

“Thank you,” Daenerys said. “Lady...”

“Lya.....” Jon felt his voice give. He found himself unable to say the word. The memory flashed before his eyes. Her words returned to him as well:  _His name is Aegon Targaeryn. Promise me Ned..._

Jon cleared his throat. “ _Lyanna...”_

Daenerys' eyes flickered to Jon.

“Of house Mormont,” Jon added.

Daenerys forced herself to return to the matter at hand.

“I thank you my lady,” Daenerys smiled. Kindly. “Ser Jorah Mormont has been a great friend to me these past years.”

“Ser Jorah brought shame to his house and his family,” Lyanna Mormont said. Sharply. “He was sentenced to death for his crimes. He broke the heart of his father when he chose to flee abroad. He is not welcome here.”

Jon felt the tension in the room grow.

“Ser Jorah is a great friend to me,” Daenerys said. Taking care to enunciate each word. “And his crimes have been forgiven.”

“Not by the North,” Lyanna Mormont declared. “ _The North remembers._ ”

Jorah Mormont stepped forward before Daenerys could respond.

“Forgive me, your grace,” Jorah said. “Lady Lyanna has the right of it. I brought shame to my house. I have no right to be here or call myself a Mormont."

“I claim no lands or titles for myself,” Jorah declared. For all the Northern lords to hear. “I come only as a loyal subject of the queen. To fight for her cause.”

“My lords,” Jon interjected. “Let us focus on the task at hand. The dead are coming...”

Jon took a breath.

“I left months ago seeking an alliance with her grace. She brings with her a large army and dragons. Together, we will beat them back from whence they came.”

Jon saw murmurs of satisfaction pass through the room. Felt the knot between his shoulders ease.

“Is that what we have,  _your grace?_ ” Jon heard a rough voice say.  _“An alliance?_ ”

Jon knew that impertinent voice. It belonged to Lord Glover.

 _Does he know?_ Jon thought.  _Or has he guessed?_  His eyes drifted to Sansa, who looked ill at ease. Jon saw a look of concern pass over Arya's face. Saw her finger her dagger at her side.

Daenerys knew Jon would not lie to his people. She saw him make himself ready to proclaim his loyalty to her. And yet, this was a distraction they could do without for the moment. This time, she stood.

“My lords,” Daenerys declared. “Let me set your minds at ease. I come as friend to the North, not foe. I come to fight for you. For your sons and daughters. I come to fight for the living.”

Daenerys paused. “I will not lie to you. I have seen the face of the enemy, and it is terrifying beyond measure. But, together, we can and will defeat it.”

“ _Together,_ ” Daenerys added, after a moment had passed. Jon knew her intent was to save him from himself. He also heard the message for him. He knew if he looked at her, he would crumble. He stared straight ahead. Stubbornly.

“You have not answered my question,  _your grace_ ” Lord Glover said. Glaring at Jon. Then he addressed Daenerys.

“And after the war is won? Will you take your armies and your dragons and return from whence  _you came_?” Glover wondered.

Before Daenery could reply, Jon spoke. She could feel the anger in his voice. Simmering.

“Have a care at how you speak, Ser,” Jon said. “You are addressing  _My Queen.”_

Daenerys felt her breath catch.

 _He loves me,_  she thought.  _He loves me. He loves me. He loves me._

“ _Your Queen_?” Glover said. Slowly. “ _Is it a marriage then, your grace?_ ”

Daenerys noted the looks on the faces of her advisors. Missandei looked hopeful. Tyrion looked troubled. Jorah, sour. Varys looked intrigued. Her eyes took in the Northemen as well. Her mere presence offended them somehow. All except Jon's little sister Arya. And she could not countenance why.

“ _No,_ ” Jon said. Roughly. “ _Not a marriage._ ”

“ _What, then_?” Glover asked.

Jon stared out at his people. Took them in. He knew this moment would come, sooner or later. He'd been preparing for it. In truth, he'd been dreading it. Not for himself, but for them. He knew he was feeding them a bitter draught.

 _I was never good with words_ , Jon thought.

“I've bent the knee,” Jon said. Simply.

A hush fell over the room. Daenerys saw it in their faces. The shock of it. The hurt. She saw some eyes go wide with fear. Others, soft with sadness and sorrow. Others still were hard and angry. No one moved. No one spoke.

And then it struck Daenerys. The North was  _hers._  The deed was done. Jon was no longer king. She didn't know what she'd expect to feel when the moment came. Despite her anger with him, she found herself growing unfathombly sad.

 _He was a king,_  Daenerys thought.  _And he gave it up. For me._

Daenerys felt Tyrion's eyes on her. He looked relieved. She could read the words in his eyes: 'Well, that could have gone far worse'.

And then it hit her all at once:  _A wall of noise. Anger. Outrage. Swears. Insults._

 _It shocked her._  Her advisors stepped close, seeking both safety in numbers and forming a sort of protective ring around her. The Unsullied tightened their grips on their spears as well. They were only a handful of them, but they were prepared to cut down every man within reach. Jon moved in front of her on instinct, shielding her with his body.

Daenerys saw him stand there. Unmoving. Unyielding. Letting it wash over him. Taking all of it. Saying not a word. A grim, determined look on his face. Staring them down. One by one.

 _That's what a king looks like_ , Daenerys thought to herself.  _He is a king. Still._

Daenerys made to rise, but a gentle hand on her shoulder and soft voice in her ear stalled her.

“ _Your grace_ ,” Jorah said. Daenerys looked at him. He shook his head. Kindly. Daenerys didn't want to admit it, but she knew Jorah was right. This was not her place. This was not her home. She relented. Sat back down.

Finally, Jon raised a hand. The noise began to subside, just a little.

“ _My lords_ ,” Jon began. “I know some of you are angry with me. Others, are dissappointed.  _Believe me,_ this was not a decision I came to lightly.”

It was Glover who replied.

“We didn't make you king so you could throw away our lands on the first pretty face you saw,  _boy,_ ” Glover snarled. Daenerys heard scattered noises of assent from the back. Daenerys saw Jon's ire rise. Saw him grimace and flex his fingers. Daenerys forced herself to remain silent.

“Why,  _your grace_?” Lyanna Mormont asked. Jon flinched at the hurt in her eyes.

“My lady,” Jon began.

“ _Why_?” Glover said. Chuckling darkly. “Every man in here  _knows why_.”

“Was it a fair exchange,  _your grace_?” Glover asked. His voice gruff with anger. “Our lands for the Dragon Queen's bed?”

The room went eerily quiet. Jon's dark eyes glinted with anger.

“Lord Glover,” Jon said. His voice was like thunder. “You have insulted  _My Queen._ Insult her again, and you shall not live to draw breath.  _This, I swear._ ”

“You deny it, then?” Lord Royce asked. His voice was clipped. Arrogant. As only a man who had been lord all his life could be. Daenerys found herself despising him on sight.

Daenerys knew Jon was trapped. To deny that they were lovers, would be a lie. And Jon would not lie. And to announce it to the world would be to betray Daenerys and her insistence to keep what had passed between them private. She saw him grit his teeth and knew she had no choice.

“I _deny nothing_ ,” Daenerys declared. “Jon is my  _lover. And I am his. I proclaim it for all the realm to hear.”_

Glover looked well-satisfied now.

“And did you take him as your lover  _before_  or  _after_ he bent the knee?” Glover asked.  _“Your grace?_ ”

Daenerys gaped at this man. Fool, she wanted to cry out. You utter, utter fool. You do not deserve him. Any of you. She heard Jon breathe in deep. With frustration. She knew how it would look to the world. She wanted to do a thousand things then. Bang their heads together. Scream at them. Order them all hanged for treason.

“Before. Or after?” Glover insisted.

“ _After_ ,” Jon said.

“ _But._..” Daenerys began. She found herself desperate. To explain it to them. To make them see. They had it all wrong. The angry noises from the crowd drowned her protests out.

“A king who kneels to a foreign invader is no king,” Lord Royce said loudly. “The Vale will not stand shoulder to shoulder with the Dothraki horde and eunuchs.”

Jon heard murmurs of 'aye' and 'well said'. However, he could see that plenty of men remained silent. It was them he addressed.

“I did not  _ask_ to be your king,” Jon reminded them. “I did not  _want_  it. You  _named me_ your king. You believed in me. Trusted in me. I ask you now, to believe in me again. Trust in me again.”

“We named you king,” Glover said. “ _Aye._ That was our folly. But kings who were named can be _unnamed._ ”

Daenerys found herself stricken. It was falling apart, right in front of her. She knew this wasn't her doing. That Jon had made this choice for himself, but she couldn't help but feel... overwrought.

“ _Traitor_!” Lyanna Mormont hissed. She and her few men had pushed their way in front, and drawn their swords. Jon felt his heart break. He'd lost. Until she turned and stood to face Glover and his men. Standing in front of Jon. To shield him. It made his heart swell with fondness and pride.

“I will not be condescended to by a child!” Glover declared. His men drew their arms as well.

“Do not speak to her that way,” Jorah's voice boomed. “Or I shall kill you where you stand!”

Now, Daenerys gave Jorah a look:  _What happened to staying out of it?_ Her friend and advisor looked sheepish and apologetic, especially when Lyanna Mormont glared daggers at him as well.

“Lord Glover,” Jon called out. Above the angry shouts and threats of violence.“You wish to unname me as king?”

“ _Aye,_ ” Lord Glover said.

“Do it, then,” Jon challenged. His eyes glittered. “My crown is not so precious a thing to me that I would spill the blood of a fellow northerner.”

This time, Jon heard protests from the back. Glover heard it too. Many were still faithful to Jon. Glover turned to address the gathering.

“You see, my lords?” Glover said. “He would not even fight me to keep his crown. In the end, a _bastard's blood always tells._ ”

Glover spat at Jon's feet. Daenerys expected Jon to explode in anger at the insult. She knew how much the word wounded him. Instead, she saw the faintest smile on his face. Only for a moment. The reaction left her all at sea.

“Jon Snow is Ned Stark's son,” Glover declared. “It is true. But there are others of his body. Worthier. And  _true born_.”

All eyes fell on Sansa Stark. Who hadn't moved. Or said a word. Sansa felt the weight of it. The choice she was about to make.

“My lady,” Lord Glover said. “Forgive us our past folly. The North needs you. Will you lead us?”

Tyrion looked at Sansa.  _The girl was tempted,_  Tyrion thought. That much was clear.  _She'd be a fool not to be._

And her experience at King's Landing and at the hands of the Boltons and Littlefinger had left Tyrion with the distinct feeling that Sansa Stark was no-one's fool.

Daenerys' grasp on the North was slipping away, Tyrion thought. _But_   _I can win it for her. I can prove my worth_.

“If only the honourable Ned Stark could you see now,” Tyrion spoke. Loudly. Allowing his voice to reach the back of the hall. Letting all his disdain out. His anger. “Hungry wolves tearing at each other for spoils like a pack of savage dogs. To see you pit his children against one another. His chest would swell with pride.”

Glover saw the effect Tyrion's words had on Sansa. Her cheeks flushed with guilt and shame. Worse, he saw the sobering effect the words had on his men. He made to move quickly.

“ _Quiet, imp,_ ” Glover chided. “You have no say here.”

“What say you my lady?” Royce asked Sansa now. “Will you lead the North? Will you be the Queen of the North? The Vale will stand behind your claim.”

Sansa rose. She scanned the room. The men and women. Took in their angry, weary, frightened faces. She looked at Arya then. Her sister was watching her closely. Her face was drawn.

“ _I am Ned Stark's daughter_ ,” Sansa declared. “Winterfell is my home. The North is my home.”

She saw Royce and Glover exchange triumphant looks. Saw the anger rise in Arya's face. Saw Jon drop his head, ever so slightly. Nod to himself, as if to make peace with it. Sansa focussed her eyes on Royce and Glover. Set her jaw tight.

“You speak of treason, my lords,” Sansa said.  _Angrily._  “You  _shame_ me. You  _shame_  yourselves. You shame  _The North_. You shame  _The Vale_. You shame the memories of my lord father and his forefathers.”

Sansa looked up to see Arya smiling.  _The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives,_  Sansa thought. She returned her sister's smile.

“ _My lady._..” Glover protested.

“ _Seize them!_ ” Sansa ordered. “They plot against my brother, the king!”

The Mormont men stepped forward and grabbed Royce and Glover. Their followers seemed to lose heart at Sansa's words and did not resist.

“Take them away,” Sansa ordered. “Find the blackest, darkest cell you can and throw away the key. I can no longer bear the stench of these wretched creatures.”

When the Mormont men began dragging Royce and Glover away, Jon called out.

“ _No!”_  Jon said.

“Your grace,” Sansa protested.  _Softly_.

_Couldn't Jon see? His grip on power had never been less firm. When would he learn the harsh lessons that she had?_

“These men are traitors and must be punished,” Sansa pleaded.

 _Please Jon,_  she thought.

“ _Aye,_ ” Jon said. “On that,  _we agree._ ”

The look on Jon's face made Sansa shiver. She nodded and stepped away. Jon stepped off the high table and drew his sword.

Royce dropped to his knees. Much to the disgust of Glover, who snarled.

“ _Pathetic_ ,” Glover mumbled.

“ _Mercy,_ ” Royce cried. “Mercy, your grace. I am ever a friend to the North. As I was to your lord father.”

Jon contemplated it.

“ _Aye_ ,” Jon said. “Mercy, you shall have.”

Royce exhaled with relief.

“The mercy of a quick, clean death,” Jon added.

Royce turned white. He looked around. Looked to Daenerys for help.

“Your grace,” Royce whimpered. “Please. I beg you.”

Daenerys made no move. Just gave him a deadly look.

“On your knees my lord, Jon commanded. “Or I shall run you through.”

The Mormont men forced Lord Royce and Lord Glover to their knees.

“The Vale will not stand for this!” Royce cried out. In desperation.

“The Vale will do what it's bloody well told do to,” Tyrion announced. He sounded greatly amused.  _“We have dragons. And Dragons fly._ ”

“Any last words?” Jon asked. He focussed his attention on Lord Glover, who'd remained silent and seething.

“ _Please,_ ” Royce mumbled. Tears streaming down his face.

“You are nothing but an  _upjumped bastard,_ ” Glover snarled. “You will be remembered as a  _coward_  and a  _kneeler._ And a  _traitor_  to your people for taking up with this  _foreign whore._ ”

Jon gripped his sword tight. He felt all of it at once. All he'd felt in the past day. The guilt. The sadness. The loneliness. The anger. The shame. The heartache. He felt a red mist descending over him. One he had only ever felt in the heat of battle.

Jon saw Lord Royce continued to resist the efforts of Lyanna Mormont's men. So Jon did as he promised. And ran his sword through Lord Royce's eye. _Savagely._  Spraying blood all over himself and Glover. Glover's eyes widened with fright as he saw Royce's body fall to the floor and twitch in the aftermath of death.

“And you, my Lord,” Jon said. “Shall not be remembered at all.”

“Let me have this one,” Arya said. She'd stepped besides Glover. Resting her Valyrian steel dagger against his chest. “I shall cut out his traitor's heart and show it to him.”

“ _No!_ ” Jon said.

Even Arya was taken aback by Jon's anger. She stepped back.

“Go on then,  _bastard_ ,” Glover said. “Spill my northern blood and declare yourself a liar before the realm.”

Jon paused. Considered it. And them smiled a demonic smile.

“I am  _no liar_ ,” Jon declared.

“ _Bind him,_ ” Jon ordered. Lyanna Mormont's men got to work instantly. Binding Glover's hand and feet with some rope.

Daenerys watched with some concern. She'd never seen Jon _this_  angry. She also knew that he had no choice. Traitors needed to be dealt with. Some harshly, others with forgiveness. Thus it always was for kings and queens. But this was something else. Something beyond avenging an insult to her honour or a demonstration of power. She knew the latter held no interest for Jon.

Jon grabbed the rope, and cutting off a chunk for himself. Which he then wrapped around Glover's throat.

“I am a man of my word,” Jon vowed. “Not a drop of your blood will be spilled on this day. And for your insult to My Queen, you shall not live to draw breath.”

And with that he dragged Glover behind him to the middle of The Great Hall. His people parted in front of him. On instinct. Shying away from his anger. Jon took the rope and tossed it around a ceiling beam as Glover squirmed at his feet. He grabbed the rope and began pulling down on it. Hard. Grunting with effort. Lord Glover's feet left the ground. He gasped for breath. Desperately. His feet shook.

Jon strained every muscle. Every sinew in his body. Until the breath left Glover's body and his eyes grew vacant. Only then, did Jon take the end of the rope and tie it to to a table. Then, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Leave him there,” Jon commanded. To no one in particular. His voice was hoarse. He walked back to the table, then poured himself a cup of wine. He drank it all, then poured himself another. He drank that one as well. Jon sighed. Felt his anger subside. Gained some measure of control over himself.

“As I was saying,” Jon said. Heavily. “I did not  _ask_ to be your king. I did not wish to be _named_  your king. You  _chose_  me.”

“And I have  _chosen_  as well,” Jon said. He tried not to. But he couldn't help himself. He looked at Daenerys. And found himself lost all over again. His anger disappeared entirely. Replaced only by a sadness which seemed to have no end.

“There sits  _My Queen,"_  Jon said. _I shall have no other.”_

 _He loves me,_  Daenerys thought.  _I know it. He loves me. He loves me...._

Jon found himself faltering. Growing weak. He made himself remember his vow:  _I will tell no one. I will see Daenerys seated on the throne and live out my days as the bastard son of Eddard Stark._

“Forgive me, your grace,” Lyanna Mormont said. Shooting Daenerys a mistrustful look. “You are  _my king_.  _Our king. The North should rule the North._  Bear Island knows no king, but the King in the North...”

Jon chuckled at that. He remembered the letter she'd sent Stannis. He'd marvelled at it then, and as he grew older, more and more. But Jon also remembered the rest of it. He knew why Lyanna Mormont had stopped.

“Finish that thought my lady,” Jon said. He knew Lyanna Mormont knew it was a command. And that she would not disobey her king. Jon admired her for it. Adored her for it.

“Whose name is Stark,” Lyanna Mormont added. She couldn't hide the sadness in her eyes.

“Aye,” Jon said. “ _But I am not a Stark.”_

Jon winced a little, even though it was not _truly_ a lie. He was at best, half a Stark.

“You're Ned Stark's son,” Sansa protested. “You have every right...”

Jon searched for a way not to lie.

“His blood runs through my veins,” Jon said carefully. “ _Aye.”_

“But I have pledged myself to Daenerys Targaeryn,” Jon said. “To fight for her. To see her rights restored to her. And if all of you bear the slighest love for me, you will honour my pledge to her.”

Jon knew his words were moving some of them at least. Others, yet remained unmoved.  _Still._ Yet, Jon knew he had one final arrow left in his quiver. One that, if strung, could never be undone.

_I will not fail her, Jon vowed. I will not betray her. I will never betray her. Daenerys will have her rights and her kingdom._

Jon turned back to Daenerys.

“ _Your grace,_ ” Jon said.

Daenerys knew his intent. She could see it in his eyes.

 _Jon_ , she wanted to say. _My love. Don't. Please. I don't want you to...._

“ _The North is yours_ ,” Jon said.

And with that, Jon sank to his knees in front of Daenerys. Bowing his head. Jon didn't dare look back. But he heard it. A few at first. And then more and more. The sound of knees hitting the floor of The Great Hall. And Jon Snow smiled.

 


	10. The Kingslayer

 

“Well, well, well... isn't this a sight.”

All eyes darted to the back of the room. Tyrion knew that voice. That annoying, smug, self-satisfied voice. He knew it as well as he knew himself.

“ _Bronn_ ,” Tyrion gasped. Bronn found himself well-amused by the look on his former employers' face.

“You look like you've seen the bloody ghost of Winterfell,” Bronn said. “Miss me, _imp_?”

“What...” Tyrion began. Fumbling for words. Only for Bronn to step out of the way. And to reveal his big brother.

Jamie Lannister heard it. The hushed whispers that always followed him. _Kingslayer_. _Oathbreaker_. _The man without honour._ Jamie knew he was in the den of the wolf. He had no friends here, save his brother. So he did as always, ignoring the slights and pretending they didn't bother him in the least.

Jon rose to his feet. Turned around to see Brienne of Tarth slip into the Great Hall, behind Ser Jamie, attempting to catch his eye. Samwell, Gilly and the babe were right behind her. And after them, Ser Davos and Gendry, with Davos looking especially sheepish.

“ _Ser Jamie,_ ” Jon said. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

“ _Jon_ ,” Jamie greeted him.

“ _Your grace_ ,” Jamie said, acknowledging Daenerys' presence with a slight nod of the head.

Daenerys only returned a curt nod. Barely. Jamie exchanged a glance with Tyrion, who gave him a reassuring look. Meanwhile, Ser Davos had sidled up to Jon, who gave him a disappointed and questioning look.

“Forgive me, your grace,” Davos said. Shaking his head apologetically. “ _Gendry._..”

Davos halted himself at Jon's look of exasperation and annoyance. He knew Jon didn't want to hear it.

“I hope I didn't miss anything,” Ser Davos said. Apologetically.

Even as he, for the first time, seemed to notice the body hanging from the ceiling. And did a double take.

“Not a thing,” Jon muttered. He turned his attention back to Jamie.

“You must be tired,” Jon said. With as much curteousy he could muster. “Come, _Ser_. I will see you rested and fed and your men quartered outside the gates.”

For the first time, Jamie looked ill at ease. Jon noticed. So did Daenerys. They glanced at each other. Then Daenerys glanced at her Hand. Tyrion Lannister looked frozen in place. Daenerys turned her eyes on Jamie Lannister.

“How many men have you brought?” Daenerys asked.

Jamie did not reply. Jon saw him grit his teeth. For once, the knight looked embarasssed. Jon would have thought that impossible.

“Ser Jamie,” Jon began. Carefully. Trying his best to keep his dread and anger in check. “ _Where is the Lannister Army_?”

Silence filled the room.

“ _You're looking at it_ , _lad_ ” Bronn said.

The room went deathly still. All eyes turned to Daenerys. Jon could see her face flush with anger. Saw her tighten her grip on the chair. Jamie saw Daenerys' anger too. He knew he needed to explain himself. He took a deep breath.

“ _Your grace_ ,” Jamie began. Only to find himself interrupted.

“ _Tyrion Lannister,_ ” Daenerys said. Still glaring daggers at Jamie. “Step forward.”

Jamie looked at his brother. Who looked like he was facing the gallows.

“Nice knowing ya, ya wee fucker,” Bronn muttered.

Tyrion kept his head bowed as he made his way toward the centre of the room. He could feel the rage coming off Daenerys. In waves. It frightened him. Tyrion knelt before his queen. Keeping his head bowed.

“What is the meaning of this?” Daenerys asked. Her voice was iron. Hard. Cold. Unforgiving.

“Your grace,” Tyrion said. He paused. Straining to find the words.

“ _My sister._..”

“Your _sister_...” Daenerys said. She seemed to quiver with rage. “ Is an _evil_ woman, a _liar, and a traitor_.”

Tyrion had no words left. He hung his head in shame. Daenerys knew that she could not punish her Hand for his family's betrayal. So she turned her anger on his brother.

“ _And you_?” Daenerys said. Coldly. _“Why are you here?”_

Jamie swallowed. Hard.

“I _swore an oath_ ,” Jamie said.

Jon didn't know what to make of that. Daenerys gave Jamie a derisive smile. Ser Jorah scoffed loudly. Jamie gave him an angry, annoyed look. As did Brienne of Tarth.

“ _Is that so?_ ” Daenerys asked. Skeptically.

“ _It is_ ,” Jamie insisted. “Why would I be here otherwise?”

“ _A Lannister trick,_ ” Daenerys said. Her voice with anger and disdain. “You Lannisters seem to have a talent for it. Some more than others.”

Daenerys gave Tyrion an angry glance. Her hand had not dared raise his head yet. For fear of losing it, no doubt.

 _Good,_ Daenerys thought savagely. _I shall leave him on his little knees._

“Aye,” Ser Jorah echoed. “Perhaps your sister _sent_ you. To gain Her Grace's confidence. Get close enough to make an attempt on her life.”

Daenerys now found herself appraising Jamie.

“We should send him back to his sister,” a northerner called out from the back. “ _Piece by bloody piece._ ”

Daenerys saw the alarm that flashed across Tyrion's face when the call was taken up by the others in the hall. And suddenly, it seemed as if the entire North was baying for Lannister blood. She couldn't help but gain a slim, grave satisfaction from it.

“ _Your grace_ ,” Brienne of Tarth said. Stepping forward to address Daenerys. “If I may be heard!”

Daenerys had seen this woman before. At the Dragonpit. The largest woman she'd ever seen. She could not remember her name.

“Forgive me,” Daenerys said. “I know you not, my lady.”

 _I am no lady,_ Brienne wanted to protest.

But Brienne resisted the urge to correct Daenerys.

“This is Brienne of Tarth,” Sansa chimed in. “She is my sworn shield.”

“As I was lady Catelyn's,” Brienne added. _“Your grace._ ”

Hoping the fact that she'd served both mother and daughter would somehow gain favour with the Dragon Queen. Brienne was sorely disappointed. Daenerys Targaeryn looked displeased at the mere mention of Lord Stark's former wife, glancing at Jon to gauge his reaction. Jon's face gave nothing away.

“ _And?_ ” Daenerys said. Impatiently.

“ _I know_ Ser Jamie,” Brienne said. Emphatically. “He is an _honourable_ man.”

The Northerners jeered at Brienne's words, causing her to flush. Jorah smirked. Tyrion found himself wringing his hands. Awaiting the moment to speak.

“ _Is that so?_ ” Daenerys asked.

“ _It is,_ ” Brienne insisted. She turned to Jamie. “ _Tell them_.”

Jamie just shook his head. His eyes, which were so prideful, gave way to sadness.

“ _Brienne,_ ” he said. Quietly.

Brienne's eyes grew wider. Jamie was refusing to defend himself. She knew what that would mean. Daenerys would have him executed.

“ _He saved King's Landing_ ,” Brienne said. Loudly. “He saved _the city_. He saved _everyone._ ”

To only more hoots and jeers. Even when Jon turned to glare at the crowd, they did not settle. Jamie Lannister's face turned red with shame and anger. Brienne's frustation only grew.

“But...” Brienne protested. But the Northerners were in no mood to listen to her pleas.

“ _Brienne_ ,” Jamie said again. “ _Don't. Please._ ”

Brienne turned to Jamie. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand.

“ _Enough,_ ” Daenerys said.

The hall quietened down as she stood. Eager to hear her decision. Tyrion could see Daenerys considering her options. He could feel the force of the crowd. Egging her on. Subtly. Tyrion forced the fear down. As deep as he could. To speak for his brother's life.

“ _Your grace,_ ” Tyrion said. “Cersei _would never_....”

“ _Do not presume_ to tell me what your sister would or would not do,” Daenerys snapped.

Tyrion flinched. The words stung.

“Cersei wouldn ever risk Jamie's life,” Tyrion insisted. “No more than _you would Jon._ ”

Only a moment later, did Tyrion consider the meaning of his words. The implication of them.

Everyone _knew_ the whispers about Cersei and Jamie of course. But he'd said the words out loud. He'd as good as announced it to the realm. That his brother and sister were lovers.

Tyrion saw his Jamie shut his eyes. When he opened them again, they were defiant. Utterly devoid of shame or embarassment. Tyrion saw the shock of it on everyone's faces. Jon looked particularly appalled. Saw the discomfort on Jorah's and Brienne's face. Saw Sansa looked stupified. Saw Bronn raise his eyebrows. Heard him exhale loudly.

Ser Davos looked sheepish. Gendry looked embarassed if a little amused. Arya for once had dropped her eyes. Samwell Tarly was shuffling nervously and his woman... Tyrion searched his memory for her name? Was it _Ginny?_ No matter, she'd busied herself with her babe. Trying not to look at anyone. Varys was looked entirely unconcerned. Somehow that bothered him more than anything.

He even saw that his words had halted Daenerys' anger. If only for a moment. Tyrion hoped it would be enough to buy his brother's life.

“ _I loved Cersei_ ,” Jamie said. “ _Once._ But the woman I loved is _gone_. _Lost._ She would gladly see the realm and everyone in it burn if it would give her on more day on the throne....”

“I come here to fight for the living. _Allow me to fight,_ ” Jamie said.

Daenerys did not speak. Tyrion could see she was, despite her best wishes, moved.

“I should take my dragons and fly to _King's Landing,_ ” Daenerys said. To herself. _Angrily._

“I wouldn't do that your grace,” Jamie said. Gently.

“ _Oh,_ ” Daenerys said. “And why not?”

“Cersei has hired the _Golden Company_ ,” Jamie said.

Daenerys felt the air go out of the room. She didn't have to ask the question.

“A mercenary army, your grace,” Jorah said. “A _famous_ one.”

“ _The best_ mercenary this world has ever seen,” Jamie added. “And not _just men._ Horses. Elephants. Archers. Ten thousand strong.”

Daenerys saw Ser Jorah nod just a little at Jamie's words. Indicating that he spoke the truth.

“I served with them for a time,” Ser Jorah said.

Daenerys seemed to find hope in Jorah's words.

“Then perhaps you could treat with them...” Daenerys said. “Convince them to...”

“If that is your wish,” Ser Jorah said. Nodding. “But the Golden Company is famous for _never having broken_ a contract.”

“They have never seen a dragon,” Daenerys pointed out. Confidently. “Perhaps I should go and show them one. I'd be back within days...”

“And if the dead were to fall upon Winterfell in the meantime?” Tyrion asked. Tyrion knew this was his final gambit. He hoped that that by drawing her attention to Jon's safety, he'd dissuade his queen from those thoughts.

Daenerys' eyes fell upon Jon. Who'd said nothing thus far. Tyrion saw her eyes linger upon the Northerner and knew his ploy had worked. Much to his great relief and also his disappointment.

Tyrion saw the frustration rise in Daenerys as she sat back in her chair. And seethed silently. Finally, she spoke. Addressing both Tyrion and Jamie.

“Your sister has done me _great insult_ this day,” Daenerys said. “ _A great insult.”_

And then, much to Tyrion's surprise, Daenerys let out a chuckle. A cold, grim sound. It was so entirely devoid of warmth, Tyrion could not countenance it from Daenerys. He shot Jon a look, only to find him equally alarmed.

“A Lannister always pays his debts,” Daenerys said. _Slowly._ “Isn't that what they say?”

Tyrion knew better to answer that. Her voice was calm now. So calm. And calculating. That frightened him even more.

“I owe your sister a debt,” Daenerys said. Her eyes glittered coldly now. “A _great_ debt. _”_

“Which is why I will take my _armies_ and my _dragons_ and to King's Landing,” Daenerys declared.

Tyrion's heart seemed to stop. He glanced at Jon. Who looked shocked. Jamie looked aghast as well. Daenerys let the statement hang in the air. Finally, Jon spoke.

“ _Your grace_ ,” Jon protested.

“ _After_ the war against the dead is won,” Daenerys added. _Bitterly. Angrily._ Tyrion suddenly found himself able to breathe again. He saw Jon feel much the same. Daenerys let silence hang over the room.

“And on _that_ day,” Daenerys said. Pausing to control her emotions.

“Cersei Lannister will learn that the Targaeryns pay their debts as well. With _Fire and Blood.”_ And with that vow, she departed for her chambers.

Jon saw Daenerys pause. Saw her whisper something to Missandei. Who nodded. And much to his chagrin, approached him. Jon hoped she'd leave him be, or someone would come to his rescue, but he found himself trapped.

“ _Missandei,_ ” Jon said. Stiffly. Awkwardly. Unable to look her in the eye.

“ _My Lord_ ,” Missandei said. Coldly. All softness had fled her eyes.

“You will present yourself to Her Grace in her chambers,” Missandei said. Looking displeased with her orders. _“At once._ ”

Jon looked over at Daenerys. She was still standing there. _Alone._ She did not deign to look over at him. She looked so _alone_. So _angry_. So _sad_. So very _beautiful_. It made Jon's heart ache for her. Jon found himself wanting to comfort her. Take her in his arms. Soothe her. Jon found himself growing weak. He forced himself to remember his vows.

“ _Tell her_ ,” Jon said. The damned words would not come.

“It is not a request,” Missandei interjected. Haughtily. “It is a _command._ From _Your Queen_.”

This time, Daenerys did look at him. The hurt in her eyes was far too much for Jon. He wilted and looked away.

 _Coward,_ Jon named himself. _Bloody coward._

He heard Missandei's sniff of disdain.

Jon knew he couldn't explain it to her. Not even if he wanted to.

“ _Missandei_ ,” he said. Despite himself.

“Save your apologies for the Queen,” Missandei said. Curtly. “I have no need of them.”

Missandei gave Jon her back, then walked over to Daenerys. This time, when Daenerys looked at him, Jon couldn't find it in himself to look away.

 

 


End file.
